


Lay Still Like the Dead

by jatty



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Abuse, Domestic Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 17:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jatty/pseuds/jatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank’s fallen for the man who lives down the hall… No, not the one who slams his door when he leaves every day for his accounting job. The <i>other</i> guy. Not the dude with the glasses who comes over twice a month whenever the accountant isn’t at home. The <i>other</i> guy in the apartment. The one who lets the guy with the glasses in sometimes. Yeah, <i>that</i> one. The one that never goes anywhere. The one that screams at night…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Frank’s fallen for the man who lives down the hall… _Hard._ Like, so hard it hurts. So hard that he feels like a dumb high-school kid again.

He thinks he might love the man just down the hall in room 117A. 

No, not the one who slams his door when he leaves every day for his accounting job. The _other_ guy. 

No, not the dude with the glasses who comes over twice a month whenever the accountant isn’t at home. The _other_ guy in the apartment. The one who lets the guy with the glasses in some days. (Or slams the door in his face on others.) 

Yeah, _that_ one. The one that never goes anywhere. The one that cries at night…the one that the accountant claims is the television.

Yeah, _him._ The one that the accountant never lets anyone see. The one that the residents of rooms 100A through 140A pretend doesn’t exist. The one that the deaf old woman in apartment 217B can’t hear screaming beneath her floor. The guy who the bitch in the ground floor suite underneath 117A pretends she can’t hear.

Yeah… Frank’s fallen for that guy. The one he’s only maybe seen five times. Once when he moved in, once as he tried to run out, and then maybe two or three times peeking out from a crack in the doorway when he’s deciding whether or not to let what must be his only friend into the tomb of an apartment when Frank just happened to be walking by.

Frank doesn’t see him much, but he hears him almost every day. 

It’s a sick routine—a strange routine—but Frank can’t break it.

The accountant leaves.

_Slam!_

Frank waits until he’s sure the man is gone from the hallway, he opens his door, and creeps down the hall. He pauses outside of 117A and listens. He hears sobs and he knows it’s okay to go back to room 114A.

The other man is still alive. He doesn’t need the ambulance again. He didn’t ‘fall fixing a light’ again. Didn’t ‘trip over the couch’ again. Didn’t ‘cut himself on a broken glass’ again…or whatever other lame-ass excuse Todd Baker, Accountant at Large, uses to cover his ass.

Everyone knows the accountant is hurting someone inside that little apartment. No one cares. No one but Frank, it seems. 

But even Frank knows that trying to help is useless.

Sure, call the cops a million times. Then the two will get evicted and Frank will lose sight of them—and who knows what the accountant would do if his noisy little boyfriend lost them their ‘home.’

Sure, try to talk to Gerard Whoever. If he only lets his friend in once every three months, what makes you think he’ll talk to you? And what could be said, anyway? It was all out in the open. 

Todd Baker, Accountant at Large, beat the shit out of him. Gerard Whoever, the helpless boyfriend, let it happen and was scared to leave. Residents of Bell-Tower Apartments were too afraid to do anything get the two apart…Well, they didn’t want the violence turned on them.

( ) ( ) ( )

It was one of _those_ nights again. 

One of the ones that Frank had at first hated, grew annoyed with, and then understood and began to dread. 

When the couple first moved in, he thought they were just fighting. And maybe they had been—there used to be two voices when now there was only one. 

Frank thought, nine months ago when the men first arrived, they were a couple at war with each other, desperate to piss each other (and everyone else) off. 

Then, three months in, he realized that this was a weekly thing. A weekly set of fights on Mondays, Tuesdays, or Wednesdays… He realized the noise was going to keep him up every week, and he was pissed.

Then, five months in, fed up with hearing all of the noise, he went to beat on the door of 117A since the landlord was doing shit about the yelling. He was going to fix the damned problem himself…

And that was the day he heard only Todd the Accountant yelling and Gerard the Boyfriend screaming for mercy. He heard Gerard falling, heard furniture crashing, heard fists hitting face and whatever else they could reach.

He stayed outside the door with his fist raised and ready to knock until he heard the screaming stop and heard Gerard’s sobs and incomprehensible, pleading mumbles. 

He shook himself out of it, called the police, and nothing happened. _Nothing_ happened. Nothing changed. 

Tonight was one of those nights.

Todd was yelling in apartment 117A, keeping Frank awake like always. Soon, the yelling would stop, but even then Frank wouldn’t sleep. He’d just keep thinking that Gerard is in there crying, hurting, bleeding…dying?

Gerard is dying and Frank does nothing, and he hates himself for it but he has no solutions. 

He tries to tone out Todd’s voice with thinking—thinking of solutions even though there isn’t one he’s confident enough to resort to. He’s scared. He wants to help, but a wrong move will just make it worse—and if Todd runs away from 117A and takes Gerard somewhere else, Frank will go mad. 

He wants to see him again. He wants to save him. He doesn’t want to lose sight of him and have him die without him ever knowing.

It’s quiet now, but in his head Frank can hear Gerard crying. He has his weepy voice memorized. He can haunt himself with the memory of it.

“No,” Gerard often cries. What he’s opposing, Frank has never known for sure. Probably pain, but maybe something else. “No, no, no… I’m sorry—I’m sorry. No.” On and on for hours the track plays in his brain.

Hours and hours…

It plays…

( ) ( ) ( )

Ray growls in frustration for the thirtieth time. He wants to watch this movie with Frank—in Frank’s apartment because Frank _never_ wants to leave his apartment for very long—but he can’t hear it over the fucking shouting.

It’s eleven at fucking night! Why is this dude screaming? Why doesn’t someone shut him the fuck up? Why does Frank _insist_ that they watch a movie here when he _knows_ it’s never quiet?

“Dude—why isn’t that guy evicted!?” Ray finally screams. It’s the millionth time he’s asked, but he can’t take it anymore. “He’s obnoxious!”

“He’s a psycho,” Frank mumbles, and puts the television’s subtitles on. 

“Don’t you complain to the landlord?”

“Not anymore,” Frank mumbled. It’s always short answers when Ray asks about that guy. You’d think Frank thought he was hot or something—or liked the sound of his voice.

“Well, who the fuck is he yelling at? I mean—” Something about the yelling changes and Frank’s eyes get really wide and his posture gets rigid. 

“Did you hear that?” Ray pauses and listens to the yelling. Sure enough, another voice is accompanying it now. This one isn’t saying words, this one is just screaming. 

Ray tries to stop him, but he can’t. Frank shuts off the movie and runs over to his door. He doesn’t open it, just listens at it. Listens to the yelling, listens to the “you fucking—raaah!—you just—raaaaah!—pisses me off when you—raah!—worthless, Gerard!”, and reacts to the sharper, pained screams that play under the yelling voice that sometimes just turns to noise.

“Is he—is he _hurting_ someone?” Ray asks, pressing his ear to the door as well, as if he’ll hear anything different or clearer. Frank shushes him. “Call the cops!” Ray practically screams himself when there’s a less than gentle thud that cuts that second, sharper voice short. 

“I can’t,” Frank mumbled, looking frantic but somehow…hopeful? 

“ _What!?_ ” Ray spits. Someone is getting killed and Frank is saying he ‘can’t’ do anything? “What do you mean you—” Frank shushes him loudly, hectically, and nervously.

“Shut up—just shhh.” Ray goes silent, trying to not even breathe. 

The yelling stopped. The screaming stopped. 

Then he hears what Frank must’ve been anticipating. The doorknob of 117A is rattling—at least Ray _thinks_ —and then it’s opening. And he _knows_ it’s that room because he can suddenly hear sobbing and then a slam so hard it shakes even Frank’s door.

Footsteps pound by Frank’s door and both he and Ray back a step away silently. It’s only a couple of seconds before Frank is clawing his apartment door open and trying to explain a million things.

“His boyfriend—it’s his boyfriend. This friend comes over, you know? But he won’t let him in most of the time.” It was lost in Frank hysteria. All Ray could establish was that Frank had been listening and watching 117A for a while, and that he was now going to check if that ‘boyfriend’ was alive.

As soon as Frank gets into the hall, though, he recoils and Ray jumps out to join him—afraid he might see blood spilling out from beneath 117A’s door like a horror-film. But then he realizes that’s not the case at all.

When the door was slammed, it slammed so hard it didn’t have time to lock before the force of hitting the frame sent it shuddering backwards. The door had been slammed so hard it flew back open, but just a crack.

Ray understood then. Frank was going inside.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank couldn’t believe his luck…Gerard’s luck. That door that was always locked—because Frank checked every time he heard the man leave after a fight—and this time it was open. Frank could get in. Frank could finally…help.

But he was afraid. It wasn’t going to be easy. Gerard won’t let his friends in, he wasn’t going to let a nosy stranger in. He didn’t want help—or was too afraid to ask for it or accept it. This time, though, maybe this time he’d be too hurt to refuse.

Maybe this time he’d be willing. He will have had enough.

But Frank is afraid of what he’s going to see—he can hear the sobs still, but they’re quieter now that Gerard thinks he alone. Or maybe Frank’s gone deaf from the slam…

He creeps down the hallway with Ray just behind him, his heart pounding but his brain trying not to register it. He can’t freak out. He can’t run away like nothing happened, and he had to hurry because who knew where that man had gone or when he’d be back. Maybe he’d just gone downstairs to borrow someone’s gun.

Frank did pause, though, right outside of 117A, and peered in through the crack. It was dark, but he could see something toppled over and someone on the floor shaking and sobbing.

Frank wet his lips and swallowed hard. The first time he tried to speak, nothing came out. He gives himself a second to try to catch his breath and tone out the blood pounding in his ears, and then tries again.

“H-hello?” He swallows hard and feels himself start shaking. The words couldn’t have been more than a whisper, but he feels like he’s just screamed. The apartments are all so silent. All of them are listening—they have to be.

The form on the floor gasps, but doesn’t seem to move. The gasp is the only reaction Frank gets. Right after the sound is out, the sobs come back.

“Come on,” Ray says. “Either go in or go back and call the cops now.” Frank doesn’t want to call the cops just yet. He wants to see Gerard. Wants to see more than a sliver of him through a crack in a door.

So he pushes the door inward and lets the hall light mix with a distant light in the apartment, lets Gerard separate from the shadows that his black clothes helped hide him in.

“Hello?” Frank says again, tracing more than just Gerard who lies on the carpet with his back to the door. He looks at the wrecked room. The stained carpet, the overturned couch, the smashed-in wall, the broken coffee table, the absolutely demolished cell phone beside Gerard’s mess of black hair on the carpet. 

The room smells—it reeks. Like something rotting and sweaty. It’s sour enough to make Frank’s stomach tighten, but not so revolting that he thinks he’ll be sick.

“Gerard?” Frank tries, actually stepping into the apartment as Ray bears down on him from behind, practically pushing him inside. 

He hears Gerard say ‘out,’ telling Frank to leave. But the voice is so feeble and overcome with sobs that Frank doesn’t think he has to listen. He can pretend he didn’t hear. Maybe he’d just said ‘ouch.’

As soon as Frank is within three feet of the man on the floor, it’s like Gerard finally realizes that he’s there. He reels with pain and starts trying to pick himself up, trying to roll onto all fours but too weak to get himself off the ground.

“Get out!” Gerard sobs, hardly capable of sounding threatening—sounding more like he’s asking a question. Like he’s asking Frank politely if he’d consider turning around and leaving. “I’m fine!” He sobs, his arms giving out as he tries to pick himself up leaving him face down on the floor with his knees tucked under him. “Nothing’s broken,” he whines before sobbing again and covering his head with his arms. “Nothing’s broken—I’m fine!” He weeps. “I’m okay…”

But he’s not. He can’t even get up. He can’t even stop crying.

“Come on, Frank,” Ray says softly. At first Frank’s afraid that Ray’s telling him to actually go, but then he realizes that Ray is drawing closer to Gerard than Frank had dared—Ray’s going right over to him and…and touches him on the shoulder. 

Gerard just shudders and tries to lean away.

“Please leave. I’m fine!” He doesn’t even sound forceful—just desperate. “He’ll be back—you can’t be here. Go!” Frank goes to Gerard’s side as well, almost upset that Ray touched him before he could when he’s been waiting to offer him a gentle hand for so long—to provide him with a hand that won’t hurt.

But he knows it doesn’t matter. As long as Gerard gets out of this tomb, Frank doesn’t care.

“Come on,” Frank says as gently as he can as he kneels beside Gerard. “I’ll help you up. Come on.” And finally, he lays a hand on Gerard’s back, rubbing it softly in a place he hopes doesn’t hurt. 

“Okay,” Gerard whimpers, lifting himself a little and allowing both Frank and Ray to support him until he’s standing. He won’t look at either of them. “Okay, but go. He can’t see you here. I’m fine—see? I can stand, I’m fine.” He tries to squirm away from the arms around him, but almost falls before Ray catches him—Frank too afraid to hurt him to grab him at first. 

“Come on,” Ray says, doing what Frank can’t. “You’re leaving. You’re not putting up with this shit. Come on.” He nudges Gerard towards the doorway and Frank helps Gerard keep his balance as he stumbled toward it. Ray does what Frank can’t—he pushes and orders Gerard while Frank is too afraid to harm him to do what’s best.

“My stuff,” Gerard whimpers, finally shaking the sweaty, filthy, black hair out of his face to look over his shoulder. His eyebrow is gashed and bleeding and his lip is split—add that to his two black eyes and pale skin and he looks almost like a corpse. 

“We’ll get your stuff,” Frank says gently as he and Ray get Gerard into the hallway.

As soon as he’s there, Gerard tries to back up—tries to go back into the dark to hide. 

“I can’t—I can’t, I can’t! He’ll come back—I can’t leave him. He _needs_ me—please. I need him—I need him, I can’t!” Frank shushes him and tries to coax him further into the hall, but he won’t budge and Ray isn’t helping. 

“You don’t need him,” Frank says a little firmly. “You need _away_ for a while. You need rest. Come over and sit for a while—I’ll clean you up.” Gerard pulls in several shaking breaths and gives in.

“Okay, okay…my stuff—I need my phone or Mikey can’t find me…” He must’ve realized his phone was smashed because he started sobbing again as Frank got him safely into apartment 114A. “Mikey can’t find me,” Gerard repeated as he sank down onto the couch, his head in his shaking, bloody hands.

“What do you need us to get, Gerard?” Frank asks softly. “Clothes? Pictures? What?”

“I don’t know where my IDs are,” Gerard sobs. Frank and Ray share a look for more reasons than one. Because the accountant had him trapped—and Gerard wanted out. He wouldn’t need his IDs if he was planning to go back to 117A.

“I’ll find them. Just stay here with Ray, alright? Ray—look after him.” Frank felt like he was running away at that point. Torn between staying with Gerard and leaving him in Ray’s capable hands while he did the work that needed done. 

Todd the fucking Accountant would come home to a half-empty apartment and no punching bag. And he wouldn’t have Gerard’s IDs. Frank would make sure he found those IDs even if it meant tearing up the carpet.

( ) ( ) ( )

It hadn’t been that hard though. There seemed to be a line between what was Gerard’s and what was Todd’s. They had separate sides of everything. Separate sides of the bathroom counters, separate sides of the closet and drawers and blood-stained bed.

Frank grabbed up Gerard’s clothes—the grungier, less polished wardrobe of course—as much as he could get in his arms in one go and took them back to his apartment, checking the hallway for Todd with every step. He left the clothes in a stack on his own bed since he lacked a place to put them since Gerard was taking up the couch by laying face-down on it sobbing as Ray watched over him.

Frank got more clothes and then started on the other things. From makeup to shampoo to razors—he wanted it to be fucking dramatic when the accountant came home to find nothing but blood to remind him of his once-pretty boyfriend. He even took the smashed to hell cell-phone and all its little, tiny pieces.

After he took most of those lesser items, he started finding more valuable things. Like photo albums that had to belong to Gerard because that dude with the glasses was in them. 

Maybe they were family… 

Photos, and books, and music.

There was a line—like Gerard’s things weren’t good enough to touch Todd’s. Their DVDs weren’t good enough to mix together. Their tapes had to be segregated…Gerard’s things had to have black and red Xs marked on them.

The only things that swam together were the things in the bedside drawer. Packs of condoms and sex toys—toys that weren’t even _clean_. Neither lubricant nor lotion anywhere to be found…just a set of handcuffs and a gag. 

Frank wanted to set the accountant on fire.

Once he’d gotten everything that he was sure belonged to Gerard out of 117A, it had been over a half hour and he feared more and more each second that Todd would appear and catch him.

He almost hoped the man would—just so he could use the knife on the kitchen counter to slit the asshole’s throat.

He began searching for the IDs once he thought he had everything else. Every corner of the bedroom had been checked, behind every bookcase and shelf in the living room. Frank began to fear that, after the bathroom proved to have no secret possessions besides an awkward porn magazine and prescription bottles that only said ‘Todd Baker’ not one reading ‘Gerard Whoever’, the bastard had those IDs on him…or had them recklessly destroyed.

Frank looked over the kitchen, jumping at every sound as he crept over the tile floor that was littered with trash and glass. There was blood on the shards by the wall, making Frank wonder if those were the pieces that cut Gerard’s eyebrow after being thrown at him. The trashcan had been overturned, something rotten lolling on the floor and probably causing the awful smell in the apartment, but nothing explained the roll of bandages on the floor by the table. 

There was blood on the table, and on the knife on the counter…and on Gerard’s hands. Bandages on the floor as if he intended to cover up a wound and hide it… It seemed to add up somehow.

Frank tried not to think about it as he went through the cupboards and drawers. Tried not to think that Gerard was trying to kill himself since he saw no other way to escape. Because no one was helping him and he was too afraid to tell his friend what was wrong.

He was starting to get frustrated—starting to feel like he’d failed Gerard in the one place that mattered—when finally, finally he found a little white envelope with an ID card-shaped bulge in its side. Hurriedly, he opened it and found more than just a driver’s license and social security card. He had his birth certificate and two credit cards and an insurance card…A school ID as well. 

It all seemed to be there, hidden in an envelope tucked behind the peeling paneling of the not-so-wooden cabinet. 

Frank wasted no more time. He held the envelope tightly and rushed towards the door, trying to avoid blood splatters and broken glass. He was so sure that as soon as he stepped into the hallway, Todd would be there, but he wasn’t. 

Frank felt damned lucky. Todd was still gone, even when Frank tightly closed 117A’s door. Even when he stepped back into his own apartment and locked the door. Even when Frank waved the envelope triumphantly for Ray—the only person who was looking.

Gerard was still crying on the couch, no longer face-down, but on his side with his back to the world and his bloodied face and hands buried against the back cushion.

“Gerard?” Frank said softly. “I found your IDs…” The man just choked. “Are you okay?” Frank asked, hurrying over to the couch and kneeling down next to the man he’s always wanted to see up close. The man he’s always wanted to save and…be with, even though he knew almost less than his name. He didn’t even remember what he read on the IDs.

“Mikey can’t call me,” Gerard sobbed. “He’s the only friend I have!” 

“It’s all he’s been saying,” Ray mumbled as Gerard fell into more hysteric tears. “If he doesn’t stop crying, that guy’s going to hear him and know he’s here. And he won’t let you call the cops…”

“Do you want me to find Mikey?” Frank asked, knowing that Ray was right and trying to think of any way to calm Gerard down. “I can take you to his place, or—”

“No,” Gerard moaned, the word Frank knew him so well for. “No—Mikey can’t know. Mikey can’t see me like this.” But Mikey _has_ seen him like this. Mikey _knows_ he’s like this, unless he’s blind.

“Okay…do you want to get a shower? Wash off?” Frank suggested. Gerard shook his head and curled further inward. He and Ray shared a disdainful look and a sigh. Now that he was here, they didn’t really know what to do.

“Not now,” Gerard mumbled. “I can’t now—later. Maybe later. It’s just—I _hurt_ and— _fuck_ I hurt… I’m hurt.” It was like he was just finally admitting to himself that he was damaged—even if his bones weren’t broken.

( ) ( ) ( )

“You whore! You can’t hide from me!” Todd had been screaming to the entire building for maybe half an hour. He’d probably gone to every floor, but now he was back on A floor. “Gerard! You slut! You _owe_ me! You can’t hide!” Every time his shouting got closer, Gerard would stop breathing, like he really expected Todd to find him and take him back. There was no way he’d get past Frank and Ray. Frank might be small, but he’s Jersey-born. He’s mean. “I know you’re here! You couldn’t get all of that shit in one fucking cab—and you don’t have any cash, fag! And you couldn’t even sell _yourself_ for a cab, you slut!”

On and on and on until, finally, the cops show up. It’s quiet after that and Gerard finally sits up.

“I want a shower,” Gerard said, no louder than a whisper. He looked at Ray when he said it, making Frank feel bad, like he’d somehow hurt Gerard’s trust or wasn’t worth talking to.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard spent some time setting up all of his shampoos and soaps and makeup bottles and facial wipes on the bathroom counter before grabbing one bottle of shampoo and one thing of soap and putting them on the rack in the shower beside all of Frank’s things.

By the time he finally acknowledged the washcloth that Frank placed over the top of the shower curtain—to save Gerard from getting it covered in blood and filthy right away—it looked like he was prepared to move in. Everything from his soaps to his toothbrush had its own little place on the counter beside Frank’s.

Frank went back into the living room while Gerard took his shower and sat on the floor beside his now bloodied couch. It was nothing that flipping over the cushions couldn’t fix.

“Now what’re you going to do?” Ray asked, making use of the other chair in the room. 

“Take care of him for a while,” Frank muttered. “If I see that guy—his friend Mikey—I’ll tell him Gerard moved in with me. We don’t really know each other, but he can’t say I’m worse than _that_ guy.”

“How long has it been this way?”

“About a year,” Frank mumbled. “Nothing helps.”

“Well…at least he’s out for now,” Ray said softly. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t get the crazy idea to go back.”

“I won’t let him,” Frank said firmly. “I couldn’t see him go back to that.”

“How long have you been… _watching_ him?” Ray asked, starting to notice that there was something else going on.

“About six months. I wanted to do something, but I didn’t know what. I didn’t want them to get evicted if I kept complaining and lose sight of him. I didn’t want him to get killed.”

“That looks like where it was getting,” Ray muttered. “Probably got out just in time.” Frank couldn’t decide if he really thought the accountant could become a murderer—that would subsequently kill all of his fun, wouldn’t it? If he lost his punching bag—but it certainly did look as though things were getting more serious than slaps and punches.

Soon, the shower turned off and Frank went quiet. He could hear Gerard groaning in discomfort as he moved to dry off and redress in clean clothes.

“You need me to bring over my futon?” Ray asked. “He can’t—”

“I’ll be fine on the couch. Besides, if that guy sees you bringing an extra bed in here he’s gonna know what’s up. I can’t have him pounding on my door while I’m at work and getting to Gerard that way.”

“Doesn’t he work? Gerard?” Frank shook his head.

“He never comes out. Unless he works from home, but I don’t think so.” The bathroom door opened and Frank got up from the floor, accepting the dirty clothes and towel from a very weak-looking Gerard and carried them off to the hampers.

He put the towel in his own and Gerard’s in the basket he’d taken from Todd the Accountant’s apartment. It had had Gerard’s clothes in it only. Todd’s in a different basket all together. Even their clothes couldn’t mix.

“I feel better,” Gerard said quietly, his eyes cast down towards the floor. “Thank you.” He stood in the doorway of the bathroom for a while, as if waiting to be asked to join Frank and Ray in the living room, but as if willing to stand there all night if he wasn’t invited to move.

“You look tired,” Frank said, preferring that Gerard get rest before trying to talk about anything. “You can have my bed. I’ll stay on the couch.” Gerard shook his head gently.

“No. I—”

“It’s fine. I’ll change the sheets and everything.” Frank started for the bedroom even though Ray sighed as if he were trying to say something.

“You don’t have to,” Gerard insisted. “They’re fine. I’ll stay there. You don’t have to change the sheets—they’re fine. Don’t…trouble yourself with it.” Gerard followed him into the bedroom and no less than collapsed into the bed—dressed in jeans and a heavy black hoodie even though he had pajamas. 

Shortly after he went to sleep and Frank closed the door behind him, Ray said he was going home.


	2. Chapter 2

Gerard dreamt of different days. He dreamt of being swept off his feet by the man with the blonde hair, and having the man beg to know when they could see each other again. Dreamt of when Todd used to kiss him for what felt like hours…dreamt of their daily phone calls that lasted into the early hours of morning before they decided to live together.

Those were happier days.

He hated dreams like that. Hated seeing what they’d been and comparing it to what they’d become. He didn’t want to relive the day that Todd slapped him for the first time. Or the day Todd pushed him to the ground for the first time. Or kicked him for the first time. Gave him a black eye for the first time…broke his wrist…broke his ribs…took him by force.

He used to fight back—used to get really in to fighting back. Used to hurt Todd as much as Todd hurt him. But those days were gone, too. 

Those were also happier days.

Now, Gerard didn’t get a word in and definitely didn’t get a punch in. If he tried, God, if he so much as _tried_ to fight back he would be hurt so much worse. There was no such thing as ‘I’m done arguing with you’ or ‘Baby, I’m too tired for this.’ He was just a punching bag or maybe less…maybe some kind of sex doll.

It felt like that sometimes, too.

And yet, in those transitional days, Gerard had tried harder and harder to bring the smile back to his lover’s face. Tried so desperately to take them back to those days of happiness where they could hold each other and smile with love in their eyes.

He really wanted all of that back. But it wasn’t until recently that he realized he could never have that again. Not with Todd at least.

Todd didn’t want him to be happy. Todd didn’t want to be _happy_ with him. Todd wanted to hurt him and break him and take everything in Gerard’s soul and control it. Control whether or not Gerard had a good day. Control his smiles and his laughs and his tears.

Todd had taken their love and ripped it into unrecognizable pieces—Gerard was tired of trying to put it all back together. He’d given up. 

Mikey would be pleased when he found out. Pleased enough to say ‘I told you so,’ Gerard bet. 

He guessed he couldn’t really be bitter about it. Mikey had warned him from the beginning that “something just didn’t seem right” about Todd. He’d just been too stubborn to listen. Then he started to think that maybe he could somehow fix Todd…make him happy so he didn’t need to hit, or need to feel in control of everything.

But Gerard was no therapist. Todd was beyond his help, and—now—Gerard was just happy to be free of him. He was thankful, so thankful, that the nosy guy from apartment 114A had found him and given him an escape route.

He didn’t know what 114A’s cost was for the service, but he’d pay it, whatever it was. He’d let Frank of 114A know he was thankful, and would make sure not to overstay his welcome. 

Gerard was injured—depressed at most—but he wasn’t worthless. He’d get a job, save up some money, pay Frank of 114A whatever he asked, get his own apartment and leave just as soon as could. 

With a groan of pain, Gerard sat up in the unfamiliar bed and glanced around. It didn’t look like the home of a psycho, and he’d never heard strange noises from the apartment except for loud music. He guessed there wasn’t a better place for him to have been taken into.

Mikey might even approve of it.

Frank had placed Gerard’s clothes in various stacks around the bedroom, and it didn’t look like he’d missed a piece of clothing when he’d raided Todd’s place. His hamper was even there, with all of his dirty clothes in it.

It probably hadn’t been hard to pick out his clothes from Todd’s. Todd always made sure that his ‘valuable’ things never came into contact with Gerard’s ‘shit.’ 

He stiffly got out of the bed and stumbled over to the various stacks to piece an acceptable outfit together even though he’d gone to sleep in clean-enough clothes. His body hurt everywhere and the mirror on Frank’s wall declared that he had two black eyes and what seemed to be a now-infected cut on his eyebrow…not to mention scarred up lips. 

That was just _great._

It wasn’t like he enjoyed looking pathetic. It was actually pretty embarrassing. What must Frank of 114A think of him? Really?

It was so humiliating to have someone else feel the need to save him when he should’ve been completely capable of saving himself. Frank had to think he was completely stupid. And it wasn’t just Frank—it was his friend Ray or whoever, too. It was fucking embarrassing as hell.

“Way to go, Gerard,” Gerard muttered to himself as he got dressed, trying not to scream as his muscles fought every movement he made. “Way to make your problem every-fucking-body else’s business.”

After he was dressed, Gerard moved towards the bedroom door, trying to walk with as much composure as possible even though his left leg hurt like a bitch. The last thing he wanted was Frank taking even more pity on him.

Especially after his horrid display last night. Fucking crying all over the place, getting blood everywhere! Fuckin’ immature, irresponsible, and stupid.

The more he remembered about the night before, the more embarrassed he became. But it was no use, he had to face Frank regardless—no matter how much he wanted to just hide his head under the pillows in the warm bedroom.

He heard the TV playing quietly when he opened the bedroom door and leaned over to see if he could catch a glimpse of Frank—to see if he was awake or sleeping. Unfortunately, he was awake and staring blankly at the screen. 

Gerard thought to speak, but couldn’t think of anything to say so he just cleared his throat. It got Frank’s attention, and his face seemed to light up upon seeing him. Gerard couldn’t place why and it made him nervous. 

God he hoped this nosy yet helpful neighbor wasn’t his personal stalker. The guy had made a point to always try to get a look at him whenever his door was open and he was talking to Mikey…no matter how many dirty looks Gerard gave him, 114A always looked at him if he could.

“Hey,” Frank said, standing up quickly from the couch. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Gerard answered, lowering his eyes to the floor quickly. It just seemed wrong to look at him, never mind how angry Todd used to get whenever Gerard would ‘look at another man.’ 

“Do you want some breakfast? I can make you something or go out and get you some food.”

“Just some coffee would be fine,” Gerard answered, turning his face the other way when Frank started walking toward him. Frank passed him to go the kitchen, but Gerard couldn’t help the small tremor that ran through his as the other man walked by him. They didn’t even touch but he’d flinched. 

He hated feeling so pathetic.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank was watching television when it happened. 

Gerard had returned to the bedroom a couple hours after he’d gotten up…claimed he was tired. Frank didn’t object—the man obviously needed rest, and it was apparent that he had no real desire to talk to Frank at the current time.

So Frank kept the volume on the television low as Gerard napped in his bedroom and tried to keep from doing anything that would make a loud noise—even avoiding the microwave in fear that the slam of the door would wake his guest from a pleasant dream.

Despite all of his efforts to keep himself quiet, he couldn’t control the noise from the hall.

At first, he paid the knock to a distant door no mind at all. He didn’t even react, except for to roll his eyes, when the door opened loudly and the person barked out an angry ‘what’ in response to his guest.

It was only after that annoyed voice registered in Frank’s mind that his eyes flew open and he got onto his feet. 

That was the accountant’s voice, the one who should have slammed his door on the way to work that morning, but didn’t. 

Only one person ever knocked on that door—especially when the accountant wasn’t supposed to be home.

“Where is he?” Frank heard a different voice demand. The voice was low—not a shout or a scream—but hard. 

“What’s it to you?” The accountant spat back. Frank pressed his ear to the apartment door and glanced from it to the bedroom, fearful that Gerard would wake up or, if he was already awake, would try to get involved. 

“Where is he?” The other man asked again, staying calm for the moment.

( ) ( ) ( )

Mikey Way stood in the hallway of one of the worst apartment complexes in Jersey—or so he believed—staring into the face of the most evil man on Earth.

When he peeked over the man’s shoulder into the tomb of an apartment, he couldn’t see anything that indicated that his brother was there. Typically if he came when Todd was home, Gerard would be cowering against the far wall in the shadows. His pain on display.

There was only a bottle of bleach and a rag in the middle of the floor.

It made his stomach twist and his heart sink. Something wasn’t right, and he was terrified. 

“Where is he?” He asked the worthless accountant that had stolen his brother’s heart and mind. Mikey kept himself as calm as he could, even though that bottle of bleach was screaming at him to panic. The bleach and the apartment’s silence…it was all wrong.

Gerard couldn’t even be heard shuffling through papers or crying in a different room…and Todd the accountant _never_ cleaned his own apartment, so why was there bleach? And why did this apartment smell of cleaners?

“How the fuck should I know where that whore is?” Mikey bit back a growl and stared the other man down.

“ _Don’t_ talk about him like that,” he said, still in an even tone. If he lost his temper, he would lose and Todd would win. Todd won too fuckin’ much for Mikey to let him get the best of him.

“Look— _Gerard_ isn’t here,” Todd said, saying Gerard’s name in a sneer. “So you should disa-fuckin’-ppear. I got work to do.” Todd tried to close the door, but Mikey stepped forward and blocked it.

“You tell me where he is. I _know_ you know! You’ve got a fuckin’ leash on him—you _have_ to know.” Mikey glanced at the bottle of bleach again and noted that beneath the rag beside it was a splotch of something dark on the carpet.

He felt nauseous, but he tried hard not to show it.

“I don’t know where the fuck he went! Figured he’d be with you, asshole! Now get fucking lost!” Mikey didn’t believe him. It was always his hope that Gerard would run away from this man, but if Gerard planned to leave, Gerard would have called him—he would’ve come _home._ He wouldn’t disappear without a trace.

There wouldn’t be a bottle of bleach and a rag to scrub blood out of the carpet if Gerard were alright.

Mikey’d tried to call him all day—all night. Nothing. Voicemail, voicemail, no reply to texts…silence. Now, when he came to visit, Gerard wasn’t there and the accountant was home from work, cleaning blood out of the carpet with bleach.

“Fuck you,” Mikey hissed. “Where is he!?” He pushed his way past Todd and stormed into the apartment despite the man grabbing him firmly by the arm.

“I said he’s not here, jackass! Get the fuck out!” Mikey jerked free of him and went over to the rag and the bleach, hoping to find that it was just wine on the carpet—but it was blood. And when he turned around he saw the massive indent in the plaster of the wall by the door, as if something—or someone—had been thrown against it. 

His blood turned cold as he rushed into the bedroom, praying to find Gerard there—even if he was dead, at least there’d be a body for a funeral. But the room was empty and half of the clothes and belongings were gone.

Gerard’s things were gone, but Mikey’s terror remained. 

“Fucker, I told you he left! Now, I want you out!” The accountant kept bellowing at him, but Mikey didn’t listen as he turned from the bedroom and slammed into the bathroom and then into the kitchen.

The bathroom was clean, but there were paper towels and rags covered in blood and broken glass in the trashcan and sink. There was even a spatter of dried blood on the wall.

Mikey’s body went numb at the sight of it.

All of Gerard’s things were gone, making it look like he’d come to his sense and fled, but then why wouldn’t he have called? Why wouldn’t he answer his phone if he was somewhere on the streets with _all_ of his stuff? He had no money. He had nowhere to go except for home…

He wanted to believe that Gerard was gone from this place but still alive… But the only logical conclusion was that he’d died in this place and the accountant had already gotten rid of the body in the night.

“Did you hear me, fucker?” The man hissed behind Mikey. Mikey barely heard him at all. “Hey! I said ‘did you hear me, mother fucker’!?” As soon as the man laid a hand on him again, Mikey snapped. 

He _told_ Gerard to leave him when the bruises started showing up. Begged him. Offered to help him. Pleaded. Cried, even—but nothing. Gerard stayed with this monster, and this monster was going to pay for it.

“You killed him, didn’t you!” Mikey snapped, shouting as loud as possible so that everyone heard and everyone knew. He started throwing punches as well, as soon as the man moved to grab him and shove him to the door.

Todd barely even struck him twice. His ‘anger’ was nothing compared to Mikey’s hatred, rage, and bloodlust.

Gerard didn’t deserve to die here. Gerard was fucking stupid, but he wasn’t some animal that a person could get away with slaughtering. Todd was going to pay—Mikey would make sure of it.

He’d make sure of it by killing this man himself—it was just too dangerous to assume that the justice system would take care of the murderer. Not to mention, Mikey wanted the man to himself. Lethal injection was too good of a death for the worthless, murdering, accountant.

“I didn’t even touch him!” The accountant screamed, shoving Mikey towards the doorway. Mikey kept lunging at him and getting pushed back, but each time he moved he got at least half of a punch in. 

“You’re a fucking liar!” Mikey screamed. “Fucking _murderer!_ ” 

He didn’t know how it happened—but he ended up on the floor outside of the murdering accountant’s apartment, staring up at the slammed door that clacked as it was locked.

“Murdering bastard!” Mikey shouted, getting back on his feet and kicking the door to apartment 117A as hard as he could.

He had to do anything violent and scream anything cruel because he felt the grief coming. He felt his anger ebbing into despair and horror.

Gerard wasn’t here. Gerard was _missing,_ and ‘missing’ typically meant _dead._ Especially when the person missing got beaten every day by a psychotic boyfriend.

“Murderer! Where the fuck is he!?” Mikey managed to choke out as he wasted the rest of his energy kicking at the apartment’s door. He started to walk away, punching the outside wall of the apartment, but his legs quickly gave out and he slid down the wall to the floor so that he was sitting outside of the apartment that his brother had died in.

What was he supposed to do? Besides call the cops? Besides call his family?

What was he supposed to say? “My brother is missing”? “Sorry, Mom, but no one knows where he is”? “Sorry, Dad, I think he’s dead”?

Mikey pulled his knees up to his chest and rubbed at his eyes beneath his glasses.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank held his breath and opened the apartment door. It would be a miracle if Gerard had actually _slept_ through the commotion in the hallway, but Gerard hadn’t come out of the bedroom if he had.

He was afraid that Mikey, Gerard’s only friend in the world, had left since it had gone quiet, but a quick glance into the hall showed him the other man sitting on the floor with his back to the wall and his head in his hands.

Mikey looked miserable, but it made sense. He thought his brother was dead, and Todd the accountant—from what Frank had heard—made no objections. Todd wanted Mikey to think Gerard was dead. It caused more pain that way.

“Psst,” Frank hissed, too afraid to speak in case Todd came out before Mikey could answer. Mikey raised his head from his hands and scowled at him darkly.

“The fuck do you want, asshole?” He growled, baring his teeth as if it would make his flushed face and moist eyes less obvious.

Frank looked nervously towards Todd the accountant’s door and then back at Mikey.

“Come here for a second,” Frank said quietly. “It’s about…It’s Gerard.” Mikey stared at him for a moment and then got quickly to his feet.

“What do you know?” He asked, looking at Todd’s door and then at Frank.

“Come here,” Frank said, guiding Mikey into his apartment and closing the door softly behind them. 

“What do you know?” Mikey asked instantly, looking Frank straight in the eye and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Gerard moved in with me,” Frank said quietly. “My friend and I moved him here last night after that _guy_ went out. He was in pretty bad shape.”

“Where is he?” Mikey asked, glancing over the living room and then walking further inside.

“He’s in my room—he might still be sleeping.” Frank followed Mikey and then led him to the bedroom door. “He couldn’t call last night because his phone is broken. He was really worried that you wouldn’t be able to find him.”

Mikey opened the bedroom door and went inside instantly, his shoulders rigid and his jaw set. Frank peeked around him to see if Gerard was asleep or awake.

He appeared to still be sleeping.

Mikey went over to where he lay, practically face-down on the mattress with his arms folded up by his head. His body swelled with each breath, but that was his only movement. As soon as Mikey saw him, he let out a deep sigh and hurried over to the bed—dropping down on the mattress beside him and placing a gentle hand on his back.

“Thank God, Gerard,” he said, barely a whisper as he continued to stroke Gerard’s back until, finally, the other man squirmed.

Gerard let out a confused, sleepy moan and rolled over to look at whoever was touching him.

They both gasped when they laid eyes on each other—Gerard from surprise and Mikey from horror.

“Mikey,” Gerard said, his blackened eyes widening as he sat up in the bed.

“Gerard—Gerard, your _face!_ ” Mikey called back. “The fuck did you let him do to your face!?”

“It wasn’t like I wanted him to do it!” Gerard shouted. “God, you’re so fucking cynical—what are you doing here?” 

“Looking for you!” Mikey screamed. Frank watched them in near terror. It seemed like they wanted to rip into each other, but at the same time it was as if this wasn’t even a real argument…like it may even be a ritual. As if the insults and screaming were a way of saying ‘hey, man, what’s up?’

“Why?” Gerard asked, finally lowering his voice and rubbing at his forehead. He shoved the covers off of his lap and swung his legs over the bed so that he was just sitting on the edge beside Mikey.

“You’re my fucking brother. I need to keep tabs on you,” Mikey grumbled. He then darted his eyes to Frank and scowled at him darkly. “You wanna give us a fucking minute, asshole?” Mikey growled at him. 

Frank, with a grimace, backed away from the bedroom door after closing it. He saves Gerard from a monster and Mikey calls _him_ the asshole? The guy needed to get his shit together…

( ) ( ) ( )

“I fucking thought you were dead,” Mikey said, dropping his head into his hands and sighing. Gerard stared at him and tried to think of something to say.

“Yeah…I probably would have been if Frank hadn’t gotten me out while Todd was gone.” Mikey sighed again. “I don’t know what I did that set him off this time. It just came out of nowhere.” Gerard would never admit that Todd had been set off by the sight of Gerard at the kitchen table, wrapping bandages around his shallowly-slit wrists. He hadn’t been brave enough to finish himself off.

“I told you to leave him. What will it take to make you listen?”

“I’m not with him now,” Gerard said back, glaring at Mikey out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, but would you still be with him if Frank or whoever hadn’t dragged you out of there?” Mikey asked bitterly.

“I already told you that I would’ve been dead,” Gerard snapped. Of course he’d still be with Todd if the busybody in 114A hadn’t forced him to leave. He was too much of a fucking pussy-ass wimp to leave on his own. Too much of a goddamned coward. 

He knew he was weak. He knew he was pathetic. Todd had proven that Gerard was worth nothing enough times for the message to sink in.

“Do you know how scared I was?” Mikey asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Well, he smashed my phone so I couldn’t call. I’m sorry—what do you _want_ me to say?” Mikey groaned and shook his head. 

“I thought you were _dead,_ ” Mikey repeated. “I thought he _killed_ you, Gerard.”

“Well, he didn’t. So you can quit worrying. I’m fine.”

“But you’re not fine!” Mikey exclaimed. “You’re busted up—I _saw_ that apartment, Gerard!”

“The apartment got more of it than I did,” Gerard said, trying to calm his brother but not sure how.

“Bullshit!” Mikey shouted, actually looking angry. “That’s _bullshit,_ Gerard, and you know it! Look at your _face!_ Look me in the eye and tell me that fucking bashed-in wall is hurt more than you.”

“Well, I’m more sturdy than that fucking wall,” Gerard hissed back defensively. “I’m fine, Mikey. You don’t need to worry about me anymore.”

“Yeah, because you’re moving in with me where I can keep an eye on you for a while,” Mikey said, crossing his arms over his chest as he finally started to look more nervous than mad.

“No, I’m not,” Gerard said firmly, raising both of his eyebrows as if that somehow made his point more clear.

“Why?” Mikey asked coldly. “Where else are you going to stay? Here? You don’t even _know_ this person. And then what? You try to go to work one day and Todd fucking sees you? Then what? He’ll talk you right back into his arms.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Gerard spat, getting up from the bed and putting a fair amount of space between himself and his brother. “Fuck you, Mikey! I’m not _fucking_ stupid, okay!? You think I don’t know that he’ll hurt me if he gets his hands on me again? You don’t think I _know_ he’ll try to be all loving and gentle in order to get me back? You think I’m not _aware_ that after a week with him, he’d just go back to the way things are now? I’m not a child, okay? I don’t have that unconditional love bullshit. I’m a grown-fucking-man. I’ve learned my lesson. I’m not going back.”

“I certainly hope not—but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to kidnap you or finish you off. You can’t make me think that he didn’t _try_ to kill you last night.”

“ _He_ didn’t try to kill me last night,” Gerard admitted, turning his eyes away from Mikey and staring at the wall instead. 

“Yeah…well, even if the gun was in your hands and pointed at your head, you can’t tell me he wasn’t the one pulling the trigger.” Gerard knew he had point. If it weren’t for Todd, he wouldn’t have been at the kitchen table cutting his wrists open…he wouldn’t have been in the bathroom two months ago swallowing too many of Todd’s prescription pills…

If it weren’t for Todd, he would’ve been dead before all of this. Would’ve died in art school when he finally realized that he had no future. 

There comes a moment in everyone’s life when they realize that they’ve destroyed everything they could have had and everything they could have been. 

Todd had saved him from that realization. Todd gave his life meaning. Not Mikey, not their parents—Todd.

Todd, the very same man who then took that meaning away and returned him to nothing. Because once you’ve _destroyed_ everything, you can’t have anything back.


	3. Chapter 3

“So…how did you end up with that guy?” Frank asked over morning coffee. He knew it was probably an inappropriate question, but he had to say something and it was the only thing on his mind.

Gerard shrugged his shoulder and sighed. 

“Met him when I was in art school. I’m surprised my stalker doesn’t already know that,” he said with intense bitterness. “…anyway, we met, we dated, and we moved in together.” Gerard rubbed his cut eyebrow and stared at his coffee cup. 

“Why don’t you want to move in with your brother?” Frank asked, tapping his own coffee cup anxiously. He wondered which question would make Gerard snap at him in rage, but he’d rather have the rage than the awkward silence.

“Do you know what it’s like to not have control of anything?” Gerard asked, sighing deeply and shaking his head. “Mikey’s not a control freak or anything, but I _know_ him. He’ll ask me where I’m going if I get out of my seat. If I leave the house he’ll demand to know where I’m going. It’d be just like being with Todd—because if I don’t answer he’ll bite my head off.” Gerard leaned back in his seat and cradled the coffee in his hands delicately. “You on the other hand… _You_ can drill me all you want when I come home in the middle of the night and I never have to answer.”

Frank nodded and lit a cigarette. Gerard had a point. Frank wouldn’t have the right to ask him where he’s been or what he’s been doing if he’s been gone all night. So long as he didn’t bring anything illegal into the home…

“Can I…Give me one of those, will you?” Gerard said, eyeing the pack of cigarettes on the table. Frank hesitated for a second, but then slid the pack and the lighter towards the other man. “Thanks.” Gerard set his coffee on the table and lit a cigarette with hands that suddenly started shaking. “Todd didn’t let me smoke.”

“It’s not good for you,” Frank said, at a loss for what else to say. 

“Yeah,” Gerard muttered, blowing smoke at the ceiling. “That’s what he said, right before he put my last one out on my side.” Holding the cigarette between his lips, Gerard squirmed in his seat and lifted up his shirt to show Frank the faded, discoloured mark. “Hurt like a bitch.”

He resituated himself and took the cigarette from his mouth to take another sip of coffee.

“That was when he first started leaving marks besides bruises. Usually he’d be happy with just punching me in the face.” Frank raised his eyebrows and stared down at his coffee. 

“Guy’s an asshole,” Frank said. Gerard snorted and took another drag on the cigarette.

“Yeah…and I loved him.” Gerard shook his head and buried himself in his cup of coffee. “Loved him to death.”

“Do you think he loved you?” Frank asked.

“What are you, a fuckin’ therapist?” Gerard asked, forcing out a laugh. “Next you’ll be asking if I date abusive guys because my dad hit me or something.” Frank thought about asking, but changed his mind. “And before you ask, no—my dad didn’t hit me. He’s a normal, doting father with two fucked up kids and an angry wife.”

“Sorry,” Frank muttered, tapping his ash into the ashtray at the center of the table.

“Now, how about you answer a few of my questions, huh?” Gerard asked, tapping away the tip of his cigarette into the bowl. 

“I guess I deserve that,” Frank answered.

“How long have you been stalking me?” Gerard crossed his legs and took a deep drag of the cigarette. The way he tilted his head—the way he closed his eyes into a sort of sultry squint—it was like he was trying to look flirtatious. 

“Not _stalking_ ,” Frank insisted in his defense. “Just…watching.”

“Same thing,” Gerard muttered, blowing smoke in the same breath as the words.

“Fine,” Frank mumbled. “I started paying attention to you when you first moved in. I guess it was just…I never saw you, and so I made a point to try. I was curious about you.”

Gerard’s lip twitched and he put out his cigarette prematurely. 

“Curious? Because you heard us fighting every day…”

“Yeah,” Frank mumbled. “I noticed that you never left.”

“It probably doesn’t really matter after everything you saw last night, but…what all did you hear? Since you started paying attention, what all have you heard?” Frank put out his cigarette and stared at the table.

“After I figured out he was hurting you, when everything would get quiet after a fight I’d go in the hall and listen at your door to make sure you were still alive. I was the one who called the cops the last two times.”

“When I ‘fell changing the light’?” Gerard asked, forcing on a smirk even though the corners of his mouth were tugging down into a deep frown. “He beat me with a…” He paused to laugh. “He hit me with a fucking board from a shelf I was putting together. Like something from a slapstick movie. Got me in the eye and all sorts of shit, and he doesn’t usually go for the face.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Gerard rolled his eyes and looked into his empty coffee cup.

“I loved him. He apologized that time and I believed it. He stopped hitting me for about three weeks, and I thought he’d finally…seen reason.” Frank looked Gerard over, looking at his sad, hurting eyes and his split, downturned lip. Gerard was beautiful. Why would anyone want to hurt him?

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Frank whispered. Gerard clicked his tongue and squirmed in his seat. 

“So is everybody else…except for Todd.”

“Do your parents know?” Frank asked. Gerard’s eye twitched and Frank bit his lip.

“They never liked him—Mom said it was ‘something in his eye.’ I quit taking him home, they started noticing things when I visited and I didn’t want to admit that they were right so I quit going home. Fucking Mikey tells them everything so I quit talking to him, too.” Gerard sighed and closed his eyes tightly. “It’s a pride thing. I don’t like everyone knowing when I fuck up.”

“I’m just glad I got to…help get you out of there.” 

“Got in the way of my suicide attempt,” Gerard muttered. Frank looked away, even though it was tempting to catch the look Gerard shot him. “That’s what set him off. Comes home…expects his dinner on the table…find little old me slitting my wrists. I wanted him to know why I did it—I wanted him to find me, but I thought I’d be…deader. Turns out I didn’t get deep enough.”

“He just got mad?” Frank asked. Gerard nodded.

“Yeah. He’s always mad, so it didn’t really make a difference.”

“Have you thought about pressing charges on him?” Frank asked, resisting the urge to reach out and hold the hand that Gerard had set on the table. 

“Why bother? We’re just a couple of fags with a history of domestic disputes. He’d press charges on me, too. I broke his nose once and, trust me, it wasn’t self-defense.” Frank met Gerard’s eyes and tried to read them. He looked insecure and nervous. “Todd’ll get over me…I’ll get over him.” 

“I’ve got to go to work,” Frank said, glancing at the clock on the wall behind Gerard. “But I want to pick up some food from the store on my way home. Is there anything you want for dinner?”

“You gonna cook?” Gerard asked, crossing his legs and leaning back in the seat. 

“I’m gonna try,” Frank answered. Gerard chuckled and stood up.

“Should I be afraid?” Frank shrugged and stood up as well, taking his and Gerard’s cups and placing them in the sink. “Is it okay if I watch some TV while you’re at work?”

“That’s fine,” Frank answered.

“While you’re at the store, pick me up some uh…some stuff for these cuts. I want to use my own stuff, not the used stuff you’ve got in the cabinet.” Frank nodded. “Thanks. I’ll do my best to make sure old Todd doesn’t know I’m hiding out here, okay?”

“Okay,” Frank said, not sure where Gerard’s change in mood was coming from.

“I won’t make any problems, so…” Gerard looked down at the floor and swung his arms uselessly, as if not knowing what to do with them. “So it’ll be like I’m not here.” Gerard looked up and caught Frank’s eyes for a fraction of a second and then turned away.

“Well,” Frank said, looking over Gerard’s suddenly dejected form, “I could certainly use the company, so I hope you don’t hide too much.” Gerard looked at him for a few brief moments and then rolled his eyes and let out a shaking breath.

“Stop trying to fuck with me, okay?” Gerard said harshly, his eyes suddenly looking wet as he bit into his lips. 

“No,” Frank stammered. His attempt at kindness had clearly come across too strong. “No, that’s not what I meant—I just—”

“You _fucking_ stalk me,” Gerard spat, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive, self-embrace. “I know what you want—and you can’t have it.” Gerard turned away and left the room, giving Frank no time to speak a word in his own defense.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard had been trying for two hours, but he couldn’t get himself to quit crying. No amount of self-hating words, soothing rubs to the sides of his arms, or fingers raked through his hair calmed him down. As soon as he’d managed silent tears, some bad feeling would rip through his chest and a sob would break out.

He hated where he was. He hated that he had no job, no money, no credit, no home, and no boyfriend. Was it really so bad that he based his image of himself on his reflection in his lover’s eyes? 

Todd looked down on him, so Gerard looked down on himself. Wouldn’t Todd’s opinion be better than his own? He was biased when it came to judging himself, only an outsider could see him accurately. 

And an outsider saw him as a worthless piece of meat only good for fucking and beating. As for Frank…Frank saw him as a worthy candidate for a fuck. That was all Frank wanted him for—that and to have a pretty, living fixture in his home. 

It hurt. Being loved by no one but those _obligated_ to love him hurt badly. All of his past relationships proved the same thing. He was pretty, but he wasn’t good enough to be loved. He was too much work.

He wanted to be dead. He wanted Todd to have let him die—or to kill him.

Gerard sobbed and folded into the sheets on Frank’s bed. He hated that he had nowhere to hide, nowhere to curl up and die like an animal. He wanted to be dead—why couldn’t he just die? Why did people get in the way? Why couldn’t he—like a rabbit—just _die_ from the loneliness instead of having to suffer through it?

And the worst thing was he couldn’t get the pills Todd had gotten himself prescribed just so he wouldn’t have to go to the doctor himself. Gerard told Todd he was depressed back when the two of them were still somewhat loving, Todd went to the doctor, said everything Gerard told him to say, got a prescription, let Gerard have it. 

Frank wouldn’t have known to grab the bottle of antidepressants that were in Todd’s name. Gerard wanted to, but he wouldn’t dare, go into Todd’s apartment to get that bottle. There were only two pills left, anyway, and it wasn’t like they actually worked.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank came home and found Gerard sleeping in his bed. Nothing in the house bad been moved, not even the remote for the television, leading Frank to believe that Gerard had gone to bed almost immediately after he left for work.

He debated with whether or not to wake him and decided against it. The man was injured, he needed rest.

Frank started on dinner and only got loud when he was dishing the food out onto plates. His plan worked. Dropping the empty pan on the floor was loud enough to wake Gerard up and coax him out of the bedroom. 

“Hey,” Frank said, taking in the tired look on the other man’s face. “Are you feeling okay?” Gerard shrugged and sat down at the table without saying a word. “I put some antibiotic cream and fresh Band-Aids on the bathroom counter. I also got some stuff to help prevent scarring.”

“That shit doesn’t work,” Gerard mumbled, turning his face away when Frank set a plate and fork down in front of him. “But I can try it.” He looked wounded and it made Frank’s heart sink.

“Um…anything happen while I was at work?” Frank asked as he sat down. Gerard wouldn’t look at him.

“No. The place was quiet and…I was asleep most of the day.” Gerard raked his fingers through his hair and looked suddenly sadder.

“Are you okay?” Gerard tried to force out a laugh, but ended up sobbing instead. Immediately, he looked away and covered his face, one hand over his mouth and one against his forehead. Frank didn’t know what to do besides stare and feel pity. “Gerard…”

“I’m just off my medicine,” Gerard said, shaking his head. “I’m fine.”

“I really don’t think it’s that,” Frank said softly. “Do you want to talk about it?” Gerard scoffed and turned his face further away. “I know you don’t want me in your business, but it’s hard just to see you this upset. I want to help.”

“Why do you think you can help?” Gerard asked, leaning back in his seat and sniffing. “Sure, you got me out—but that’s only half of it.” Frank looked down at his plate and slowly started eating, letting the conversation drop. Gerard took a few minutes and then began to eat as well, slowly acting as if nothing had happened. “This is good,” Gerard mumbled, eating a little quicker. “I think I’m going to take a shower when I’m done.”

“Okay,” Frank answered, looking Gerard over. He’d managed to stop the silent tears, but he still looked depressed behind his bruised eyes. 

“And I’ll sleep on the couch from now on. I don’t intend to take over your bedroom.”

“It’s fine,” Frank answered, biting on his lower lip. 

“So I take it you don’t have a boyfriend,” Gerard said, no doubt attempting to make small talk.

“Um…no, not at the moment.”

“He’d probably be pissed if he found out you’ve been stalking another guy anyway.” Frank rolled his eyes but didn’t comment. “Ever have a boyfriend hit you?”

“Once,” Frank answered. “I hit back and quit answering his phone calls.”

“Todd waited until we moved in together. It was like a game for a while—it was fun.” Gerard made a point to get Frank to look him in the eye before he continued. “It was _fun_ until he cheated in me. That’s when hitting wasn’t just it anymore.”

“He cheated on you?” Frank asked, just to keep the words coming so dinner was silent. 

“He’d been doing it with some blonde freak for about a month and told me that he was staying over at work for a training program. Then one night…he brought the other guy home.” Gerard furrowed his brow and glared at the table. “We _lived_ together. He _knew_ I was home. He _wanted_ me to see.”

“Was he trying to get you to leave him?” Frank asked, resisting the urge to grab the hand Gerard had resting on the table. He wanted to touch him, to offer the comfort that words couldn’t give.

“No,” Gerard said. “He was showing that he was allowed to have whatever he wanted, and that I couldn’t have anything. It was right after that that he started putting x’s on everything that was mine and made sure my things weren’t anywhere where they could ‘contaminate’ his.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Gerard’s lips curled into an unhappy smile.

“He wouldn’t let me. I went out once and he drug me back home, beat me, tied me to the bed…brought another man home under the pretense that it was threesome. Told the guy I was into rape-play so no matter what I said or did it never stopped.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank said, watching Gerard’s face go paler. 

“I never forgave him, and he knew it.”

“I’m kind of glad you didn’t,” Frank said. “He shouldn’t have done that—he _can’t_ do that! You were his boyfriend, not his toy. He can’t just share you.”

“I know,” Gerard mumbled. “I didn’t talk to him for three days afterwards. Eventually I got tired of being quiet so I gave up convincing him that he’d done something wrong. I just told myself that next time I’d be better for him and he wouldn’t have to go somewhere else…even though I knew it wasn’t me.”

“Did he ever…do that again?” Frank asked. “Let someone else…you know.” Gerard shook his head quickly.

“No. He found out that he didn’t like sharing what’s his, and accused me of cheating on him for letting it happen. That was like…maybe a month later because that guy asked if he could come over again.”

“Sick fuck,” Frank mumbled. Gerard laughed softly. 

“I don’t blame that guy. He was nicer to me than Todd was.” Finally, Frank gave in and placed his hand over Gerard’s on the table. Gerard flinched, but didn’t pull away. “Um…what are you…” Gerard pulled his hand back and cleared his throat. “What are you wanting as payment for—payment for me to stay here?”

Frank retracted his hand and shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just—”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Gerard snapped. “You stalk me—what do you want from me?”

“Gerard, I don’t want anything.” Gerard narrowed his eyes and Frank felt his blood rush cold. 

“You.Stalk.Me…You obviously want something for me.”

“Not…not in turn for keeping you off the street or keeping you safe,” Frank insisted. “I’m not an asshole.” Gerard rolled his eyes and finished the last of the food on his plate. “And it’s not stalking if you never leave your apartment.” 

“I guess you have a point,” Gerard muttered. “So you don’t wanna be my boyfriend?” Gerard asked, putting on a pouty voice and sticking out his lower lip. He probably would’ve looked cuter if it weren’t for his split lip, blackened eyes, and cut eyebrow.

“I don’t think you need a boyfriend right now,” Frank answered, keeping Gerard’s gaze. He looked like he was deciding whether or not to be offended.

“I’m going to take that shower now,” Gerard said, getting up and putting his plate in the sink before leaving the room.

Frank finished his meal and put his plate with Gerard’s in the sink and chose to watch TV while Gerard washed up. He was still getting used to the feeling of having another person in his home, and especially letting it sink in that the man he’s been admiring for the past six months was now living with him—albeit temporarily. 

Gerard was safe, and it was all thanks to him and Ray. It made him feel good and kind of important.


	4. Chapter 4

Gerard made a point to get his proverbial shit together while Frank was at work the next day. He managed to quit sobbing from self-pity and the pain that was slowly starting to fade away in his body.

As he was finally able to move around without his body screaming in protest, he started to pick up the apartment. He was dusting and disinfecting everything he could find, just to keep his mind occupied. He washed dishes and made Frank’s bed—he couldn’t help but organize the other man’s clothes in his drawers as well.

Around the time that he ran out of visible things to do he heard voices in the hallway and his skin began to prick. 

It was Todd’s voice. But who was he talking to? Why was he bringing someone home on his lunch break? 

Gerard was at the front door of the apartment in an instant, listening to Todd and this other, strange man. 

“Yeah—it’s just a small place,” the stranger said. Gerard could hear Todd messing with his keys. “But the food there is good.”

“It sounds perfect,” Todd said in the voice he always used when trying to sound sweet. “How about we go on Friday?” A date? Already? Gerard felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. He really hadn’t meant anything to Todd…

“That would be awesome,” the stranger said. Gerard couldn’t hold back the bitterness and jealousy. He couldn’t fight the feeling that said Todd was _his_ , even if he swore he didn’t want to take him back. Todd didn’t deserve to have someone else already. 

Against his better judgment, Gerard unlocked the front door and pushed it open a crack, just to catch a glimpse of this naïve stranger. 

In the small sliver between the door and its frame, Gerard could see Todd slowly unlocking his door. He looked as perfect and unblemished as ever in his beige suit that was free of crease or flaw. Todd loved that suit…Gerard had been the one to pick it out at the store.

Beside him stood a shorter man with brown hair. He was overweight and Gerard had to resist the urge to scream out—in anger, not to offer advice—that Todd would terrorize the man until every extra pound was shed. 

Todd pushed open his apartment door, but before he stepped inside he paused to smile in false affection at his new toy. He lifted a hand to caress the other’s cheek and then guided him inside.

Gerard began shaking, but wasn’t sure if it was because he was angry or because he wanted to cry again. He closed the door and locked it before leaning back against it sadly, trying to pull himself together. 

He couldn’t be with Todd anymore—he didn’t need to feel this way. He broke up with Todd—he couldn’t be jealous of his lovers. Todd beat him, hurt him, _ruined_ him—he _couldn’t_ want him back.

Gerard let out a frustrated, loud scream and went back to cleaning everything he could get his hands on. Things he didn’t need to clean and things he’d already tended to. He washed the bathroom sink, the shower, the toilet, the kitchen sink, the microwave, _every_ dish in the house, and was finishing with the refrigerator when he heard the front door unlock.

Rather than letting Frank catch him cleaning, Gerard hurriedly shut the fridge and threw the cleaning towel he’d been using into the overflowing trash. Suddenly, Gerard regretted cleaning so much in one day—what the hell was he supposed to do to keep his mind occupied tomorrow?

Yeah, he supposed he could do it all again, but…that would make him look a little obsessive compulsive. 

“Gerard?” Frank called out as he stepped further into the nearly spotless apartment.

“What?” Gerard answered, grappling for the coffee machine to look like he’d been in the kitchen with a purpose besides cleaning it. 

“Um…thanks for cleaning up for me—you really didn’t have to.”

“I can’t pay my share of the rent right now, so who gives a fuck?” Gerard answered, not sure why he had to become vulgar in order to keep his cool. Why was he suddenly so tense and nervous? The anxiety was killing him, and he didn’t think a cup of coffee was going to help.

“Oh,” Frank answered, creeping into the kitchen. Gerard tried to focus on pouring coffee grounds into the filter, but ended up adding too much. He sighed, discouraged and glanced at Frank out of the corner of his eye. “Thanks. I really appreciate you helping out.” 

Gerard started the coffee maker and tried to keep from rolling his eyes. That was such a typical thing to say—thanks for helping out.

“You’re out of antibacterial wipes,” Gerard said. He didn’t want them to live together in silence, but he didn’t know what else to say to encourage conversation. He certainly didn’t want to discuss Todd or Mikey.

“But I just bought some…”

“Well now you’re out!” Gerard snapped. Frank cringed and left the kitchen without another word.

This was Frank, Gerard reminded himself, not Todd. Frank wasn’t here to look over the kitchen and announce that there were still bubbles of soap in the sink, or a smudge on the fridge’s handle. 

Gerard sank into himself and listened to Frank walk through the apartment quietly as he watched the coffee brew. He didn’t need to be defensive with Frank…

“What do you want for dinner?” Gerard called. At first he was afraid that Frank was going to ignore him. 

“Um…I don’t know. What do you want?”

“What do _you_ want?” Gerard said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. 

“I don’t know,” Frank said, drifting back into the kitchen and opening the fridge. “I don’t really care…”

“Are you not hungry?” Gerard asked, leaning back against the counter and subconsciously putting more space between himself and the other man.

“Well…I had a big lunch, so not really.”

“So we won’t worry about dinner,” Gerard said, turning back to the coffee that was almost done. “I don’t care.”

“Did you eat today?” Frank asked, closing the fridge.

“No,” Gerard answered irritably. 

“Well, then you have to eat something for dinner.”

“No I don’t,” Gerard said back, pouring the too-hot coffee into a cup.

“Yes you do,” Frank said, almost laughing. “You can’t starve.”

“One night’s not going to kill me.”

“You’ve got to eat something.”

“No I don’t!” Gerard shouted, almost spilling his coffee as his anger took over. “I’m not hungry—fuck off!”

“Fine!” Frank said back, tossing up his hands and leaving the kitchen. “Jesus Christ…” 

Again, Gerard sunk into himself as he listened to Frank go into the living room and drop onto the couch. He turned on the nightly news and played it louder than he needed to as if trying to drown out anything Gerard might say.

Gerard quietly poured a second cup of coffee and carried it into the living room, offering it to Frank as an apology. 

“Thanks,” Frank mumbled, taking the coffee and setting it instantly on the end table beside the couch. Gerard tried not to feel offended and retreated to the kitchen, the only place in the apartment he could really hide since the bedroom belonged to Frank. 

He slowly sipped his bitter coffee and then cleaned the pot and his cup. Just as he finished drying the coffee pot and setting it back in its resting place on the coffee maker, Frank came into the kitchen and placed his cup in the sink.

“You know, you can watch TV with me,” Frank said. “You don’t have to stay in the kitchen.”

“I know,” Gerard said. As soon as Frank stepped away from the sink, Gerard started washing the cup. He really was going to have nothing to clean the next day while Frank worked…not a dish. “Can I have a cigarette?” He asked before Frank could fully leave the kitchen. 

“Um…No, I don’t really think you need one.” Gerard tried not to get angry—he really did. “They’re expensive, and they’re mine. So…no.”

“Fine,” Gerard said, washing the sink again even though it didn’t need it. Cleaning helped him stay calm, even as Frank lit a cigarette in the other room almost as if to spite him. “Food’s expensive!” Gerard snapped the instant he turned off the faucet. 

“You need food to fucking live!” Frank spat. “Jesus Christ, what is your problem!?” Gerard flinched when he heard Frank get off the couch and start for the kitchen. 

Frank wasn’t going to hit him, he knew he wasn’t going to hit him, but it was still unpleasant to have someone storm in his direction. Gerard tried not to look victimized when he backed into the kitchen counter.

“What’s your problem?” Gerard mumbled, unable to think of anything else to say when Frank confronted him.

“Why are you mad?” Frank asked, his own anger showing through strongly. 

“Because I want a smoke,” Gerard answered, knowing that he sounded like an angry teenager in trouble with a parent. “I’ll pay you back for it.”

“Fine—I’ll give you a cigarette if you make yourself something to eat.”

“Fine,” Gerard answered bitterly. 

“And…and you can have two if you tell me why you were pissed off the instant I came home.”

“Don’t fucking bribe me!” Gerard hissed. “You can’t fucking bribe me with cigarettes! Fuck you—keep the damned things.” He regretted saying it, but he wouldn’t let it show on his face. 

He didn’t like it here—there wasn’t a single room he could go in to hide. He didn’t have his own space like he did at Todd’s. He’d do better hiding in a bedroom or an office, but all he had was a kitchen to sit in. 

“Whatever,” Frank spat. “ _Why_ are you so angry?” 

“Why do you keep pushing it!?” Gerard screamed. “I’m fine!”

“Then why are you yelling!?”

“Why are _you_ yelling!?” Gerard glared at him and Frank rolled his eyes.

“Because you are! My God! Did I not sound thankful enough when I noticed that you cleaned the apartment!? Did you want _me_ to make dinner? What do you _want?_ ”

Gerard looked away from him and stared at the clock on the wall instead. How could he explain that he was just an angry person by nature? How could he explain that he and Todd didn’t talk, they _fought?_ There were no peaceful discussions or ‘hey, how was your day’ conversations. There were arguments and fights.

How could he get Frank to accept that this behavior was perfectly _normal?_

“I don’t know what to do,” Frank said. “I don’t know what you want. Why won’t you talk to me without getting mad?”

“I’m not mad!” Gerard argued. Frank sighed in frustration and shook his head. “I’m _not_ mad,” he repeated without shouting this time. “At you…” Frank was giving him a place to stay; he couldn’t keep fighting with him.

“Okay,” Frank said calmly. “You’re not mad at me, so who are you mad at? Todd?” Gerard shrugged and looked at the floor. 

“He’s already got a new boyfriend,” Gerard mumbled. “I saw them together on his lunch break. Pisses me off.”

“Oh,” Frank said, suddenly understanding. Gerard managed to keep from tacking on ‘but it’s none of your business’ or ‘so will you leave me alone now.’ “Okay…well, that guy will learn soon enough, won’t he?” 

“Maybe,” Gerard mumbled. “He might be smarter than me.”

“It’s not a smarts thing,” Frank said softly. “You really cared about that guy. It was manipulation.”

“It. Was. Stupid,” Gerard said, staring Frank in the eye.

“Fine,” Frank said in defeat. “Do you want to watch TV or do you want to stand in the kitchen all night?” 

“I’ll watch TV,” Gerard said, giving in. He followed Frank into the living room and sat down too close to him on the couch. Their thighs were touching.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank felt his breathing change when Gerard sat down beside him—their thighs more than touching. The other man had to have done it on purpose, just to retaliate for Frank having made him open up to him.

The more he thought about it though, the more he realized that Gerard might have something else in mind. He’d said that he was angry at Todd for seeing another man already…and he was slowly, slowly, _slowly_ pressing closer to him. 

There was no doubt in Frank’s mind that that jealousy Gerard was feeling was planting bad ideas in his mind. If Todd had moved on, he was going to as well—that’s what Gerard’s behavior seemed to be saying. 

And if Gerard couldn’t move on mentally, he seemed to be content to try doing it physically. 

“Gerard,” Frank started when the other man’s hand started moving from his knee—when had his hand gotten there?—up his thigh slowly.

“Shh,” Gerard said suddenly, and in one brisk motion had swung his leg over Frank’s body and sat straddling his hips. Gerard leaned down and kissed him softly, tracing his bottom lip with his tongue.

“Gerard, you really shouldn’t—” Again, Gerard shushed him and started kissing him again, much more forcefully. Frank knew he needed to push him back the instant Gerard started wrapping his arms around him—knew he should have turned his face away when Gerard finally got their tongues to touch…but he was frozen.

When he lifted his arms to push Gerard back, they ended up encircling him instead. When he attempted to tell Gerard that they needed to stop, he just started kissing back—never mind Gerard’s split lip or the diseases he might get from its blood. 

It was hard to think of anything when Gerard started pressing and rutting against him. This was the guy he’d been dreaming of for months—it was his fantasy. Who could blame him for being momentarily caught up in the seduction?

“Gerard—no,” he finally managed to say when Gerard paused to catch his breath. 

“Frank, yes,” Gerard responded, trying to go back for another kiss. Frank thought turning his face away would be good enough, but it apparently gave Gerard permission to start sucking on his neck.

He moved from his neck slowly up to his jaw, and then began to gently nibble his ear, sending chills down Frank’s spine. He needed to say no to him, but he couldn’t. He wanted Gerard and Gerard apparently wanted him, too. They were both adults—he didn’t _have_ to refuse the offer.

“Bedroom?” Gerard asked when Frank began gripping onto him and trying to find a place to kiss or bite. Frank moaned, but made himself pause to think. What was he doing? Gerard was just using him as a rebound because he was pissed off at Todd. Even if they went through with it, it wouldn’t mean anything.

Even if he had a crush on Gerard, Frank still meant nothing to him.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Frank said, taking his arms back from around Gerard’s waist. The other man froze and then locked eyes with him bitterly. “Gerard, you don’t even _like_ me.”

“Shut up,” Gerard said before stealing Frank’s lips again and kissing him hard enough to leave bruises. Even though Frank started fighting him, Gerard showed no signs of letting up. 

When he needed to breathe, he just released their lips, took a breath, and then carried on sucking and biting Frank’s neck. He’d make his way sensually up to his jaw, to his ear, and then back to his mouth.

Frank felt powerless against him. He _wanted_ him. He’d wanted him since he’d caught his first glimpse of him carrying boxes into apartment 117A. It was so easy to convince himself that this wasn’t wrong.

“Do you have anything?” Gerard asked before latching onto Frank’s neck again and running his fingers through his hair.

“Have anything?” Frank asked, not sure if Gerard meant condoms or diseases. Gerard groaned and thrust against him firmly.

“Bedroom?” He asked again, his voice more needy than anything else.

“Okay,” Frank said. “Yeah.” He squeezed Gerard’s hips one last time and moved to stand up. Gerard kissed him almost softly and slid off of his lap. The instant they were both on their feet, Gerard grabbed his face and forced their lips together again. He’d break the kiss only to take a couple of steps and then go back to it. To Frank, it almost felt like he were being attacked.

When they finally did get to the bed, Gerard had pulled Frank’s shirt off. Once he’d taken off his own shirt, he shoved Frank back on the bed and started crawling over top of him. 

To be honest, Frank was starting to feel emasculated. 

“Am I going to get to make a call in this at all or are you just in control?” Frank asked, trying to sound playful in fear that he would piss the other man off and end up in trouble. In the darkness of the bedroom, it was hard to read the other man’s expression.

“Shut up,” Gerard answered, sitting on Frank’s hips and staring down at him like a cat admiring its trapped prey. He stayed like that for an unfair amount of time, his still clothed erection pressing down against Frank’s firmly. Right when Frank was about to ask if Gerard was having second thoughts, Gerard leaned down for another kiss. “Do you have anything?” Gerard asked again, rocking his hips against Frank’s slowly. 

“In the drawer?” Frank answered, hoping Gerard was asking about condoms and not diseases. 

Gerard rewarded him with a less-forceful kiss and then fumbled through the drawer at an awkward angle, refusing to get off of Frank’s hips. It was as if he were afraid that Frank would get up and run away. 

He tossed the bottle of lube onto the bed, missing Frank’s head by less than an inch, and held the condom in its wrapper between his teeth almost proudly. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard stared down at Frank triumphantly, not sure why he was proud of being able to seduce his stalker but feeling pride none the less. He could tell that Frank desperately wanted to ask who was in control tonight, but seemed too afraid to risk it. 

Gerard had to think for a moment—he could probably take Frank if he wanted, but Frank didn’t seem to have that in mind. And Gerard really didn’t want to have to do the work—he was tired. It was easier to let Frank take control—let Frank fuck him…but he didn’t want Frank in control. 

He wanted to do this to pay off his debt and piss Todd off. No part of that involved letting Frank get on top of him and pin him down. He guessed his best bet was to keep Frank under him and do all of the work himself—prep himself and fuck himself on Frank’s dick.

Noticing that the man beneath him was slowly going soft, Gerard rutted against him and then started unbuttoning his pants. In a way, he felt like he was taking advantage of the other man, but Frank was his stalker after all, so the friends with benefits thing wouldn’t be out of his comfort zone.

Soon, he had Frank’s jeans and boxers down far enough for him to be able to get at what he wanted and tried not to look at him as he took of his own remaining clothes. Todd didn’t like to be stared at, why would Frank be any different?

He thought to give Frank another kiss before passing the point of no return, but remembered the condom wrapper in his mouth and let the idea fade. He tore the wrapper open with his teeth, and tossed it aside, holding the condom between two of his fingers carefully. 

“Are you sure about this?” Frank asked. Gerard chose to ignore him, and leaned down to lick a gentle stripe from the base of the other man’s dick to the tip before rolling the condom over him gently. Let that serve as his answer.

He found the bottle of lubricant next to Frank’s head and looked at it for a minute before deciding that he hardly needed it, but should probably use it for Frank’s sake. It wasn’t like Todd ever felt the need for it before, but Frank was a different sort of person.

And Gerard really didn’t want to hear ‘am I hurting you?’ every two seconds. 

Almost in defeat, Gerard poured some of the liquid onto his fingers and used it to slick his new lover’s twitching erection. He really didn’t need to use any on himself, so he wiped the oil that remained onto his own thigh, afraid of what Frank might say if it got on the sheets.

Gerard crawled over top Frank’s body and managed a soft sigh as he positioned Frank at his entrance. Finally, he was able to get another kiss as he pressed back against Frank’s dick and felt it slip inside. 

Frank moaned deeply and Gerard began sucking on his neck as he set up a quick pace. He was already at the perfect angle, so every time he thrust back he had Frank hitting his prostate. It was his goal that neither of them would last long.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard’s shoulders, trying not to feel powerless and without say as Gerard continued riding him at a nearly brutal pace. The only bit of affection that even remotely showed in Gerard’s actions was the deep kisses he demanded in between every breath and moan. 

Gerard made this soft, almost moaning sound every time he’d rock backwards that was helping to get Frank off almost more than the motions. If ever he’d felt like a tool, it was now. He was simply Gerard’s toy to use to get off, and it was painfully obvious. 

Was this how Gerard felt every time he was with Todd?

It seemed like Gerard was trying to make some kind of point with all of the kissing during the fast-paced thrusts, but Frank couldn’t interpret it. 

And all too quickly, he felt his climax building. His mind wasn’t enjoying the evening, but his body was. 

He and Gerard seemed to be in synch, because Gerard’s moaning became slightly more frantic and his pace changed. He’d push back quickly, but he’d pull forward slower—and, finally, he moved one of his hands in order to stroke himself. 

“Close,” Gerard breathed before moaning deeply. He sat up, slamming himself down onto Frank a little harder than before and moaning louder. And then, out of nowhere, his moans turned into cries of Frank’s name that seemed either forced or out of place. “Frank—Frankie…” He arched down for another kiss, but shortly after their lips met his body went tense he choked on his breath. Even as his orgasm hit him, Gerard still kept his hips moving so Frank could catch up. 

Even after Frank lay spent with Gerard lying like a blanket over top of him, he didn’t feel any satisfaction or relief. It had been a mistake. He should never have let Gerard coax him into this meaningless behavior. 

Gerard meant something to him, and even though Gerard was attempting to cuddle now that it was over, it was still obvious that he meant nothing to the other man.


	5. Chapter 5

Frank opened his front door in virtual dismay. He and Gerard needed to have a talk about the previous night, but he didn’t know how such a conversation would go over. Gerard was prone to fits of anger, and he really didn’t want to get into another argument with him…

All day he’d been trying to talk himself out of bringing up the topic at all, but he found it unavoidable. He’d begun to believe that Gerard had used him, but then why would the man become so insistently clingy afterwards? 

Gerard had _refused_ to let Frank get out of bed—not even to take a piss. He kept him trapped by lying on his legs and his arms and his _chest._ Gerard held his hand, kissed his neck, licked his ear, _anything_ to keep Frank from getting up. 

It was like Gerard liked him back…but Frank wasn’t sure that was true. Gerard had been angry about Todd—Frank was sure that that was why the night even happened. Not because Gerard returned any of the affection that his “stalker” felt for him.

“Hey, you’re home!” Gerard called from the kitchen, peeking out from around the doorframe and smiling at Frank who tried to awkwardly shut his door—forgetting to lock it. “Do you know there’s no food in the house?”

“Um…there’s something in the freezer, I thought,” Frank said, unable to return Gerard’s smile before the other man went back to work in the kitchen.

“Not enough for two…just some veggie burger—are you vegetarian?” Gerard asked, his eagerness seeming odd. 

“Yeah,” Frank answered, going to the kitchen and watching Gerard stare at the nearly empty freezer.

“Oh…I guess I can go with that for a while.”

“Hey, Gerard?” Frank stammered. He knew he was going to spoil Gerard’s good mood—the first good mood he’d had since moving in—but he couldn’t bear the anxiety that was eating away at him.

“Yes?” Gerard said, closing the freezer and turning around to face Frank with a weak smile.

“We need to talk about last night,” Frank said slowly, watching Gerard’s smile falter. 

“No we don’t,” he said quickly and with a wink. 

“Yes, we do,” Frank said, looking away and trying not to get caught up in his doubts. Last night couldn’t have meant anything to Gerard…Gerard had just been jealous of Todd because Todd had gotten another boyfriend.

“No we don’t,” Gerard said again, leaning forward and pushing his lips against Frank’s. Frank turned his face away and sighed. 

“Yeah we do, because… Because, Gerard, I think it meant something different to you than it did to me.” Frank cringed and chanced a look at Gerard’s face. He had his lips pursed and his eyes looked bitter.

“What do you mean?” Gerard asked, crossing his arms over his chest momentarily before deciding to rub Frank’s shoulders and run a finger down his chest. “That was just a couple of bored, gay dudes blowing off steam and burning some energy.”

“Yeah, see, that’s what I’m talking about,” Frank said, attempting to push Gerard’s hands away from him. Gerard grabbed his hands back and entwined their fingers.

Frank really couldn’t see what he was getting at with all of the cuddling the night before and the touching now.

“What do you mean?” Gerard asked, tilting his head to the side and putting on a smirk. 

“I mean,” Frank started, pulling his hands free of Gerard’s, “that this whole ‘friends with benefits’ things isn’t going for me.” Gerard’s face instantly went from playful to angry. 

“Okay, but…Yeah, okay, well I wasn’t going for that, _Stalker._ But it’s good to know that you think I’m fucking using you—you could’ve told me that last night before you fucked me. Now that you’ve got that off your chest, buy me some fucking food—I paid for it last night.” Frank felt that if there was a guest room—or any spare room in the house—Gerard would have stormed away to it and slammed the door, but there wasn’t one so he settled with crossing his arms over his chest and turned his back to his attacker.

“Don’t get mad,” Frank said. “And what do you mean you _paid_ for—”

“What do you think it means!?” Gerard snapped, turning back around. “I can’t pay for anything with cash because I don’t have a job—it’s called restitution.”

“No, it’s called _prostitution,_ ” Frank argued. 

“No,” Gerard spat. “No, there’s a difference, because—”

“No, it’s sex for money—”

“It’s not money! It’s—It’s compensation! You _want_ me here!”

“I didn’t ask for compensation!” Frank shouted.

“But you fucked me,” Gerard said, too calmly. So calmly that it pissed Frank off more.

“ _You,_ ” he screamed, making Gerard back away a step, “fucked _yourself_ using my dick, okay!?”

“Yeah, that’s right!” Gerard spat, his eyes instantly starting to tear. “You had _nothing_ to do with it! My mistake!” Ducking his head, Gerard left the kitchen without giving Frank time to speak.

Frank sighed deeply and followed Gerard into the bedroom.

“Gerard, I didn’t mean it like that,” Frank said. He stood in the doorway while Gerard busied himself with picking at something in one of the drawers Frank had given him to keep his clothes.

“Yes you did!” Gerard shouted, slamming the drawer and then sighing through his withheld tears. 

“Okay…but, Gerard, you have to understand—”

“No!” Gerard growled and shoved the already closed drawer in his frustration 

“Do you even like me?” 

“Not right now.”

“Gerard…”

“I don’t _love_ you,” Gerard said, turning to face Frank and shrugging his shoulders in defeat. “I’m glad you gave me a place to say, and yeah I wish Todd wasn’t your neighbor so I didn’t have to hear him bringing home his new boy toys, but you said it yourself—I don’t need a boyfriend right now.”

“So…” Frank said, regretting that he’d forced Gerard to confirm what he already knew. “About last night…”

“I get it,” Gerard sighed, rolling his bleary eyes. “It was inappropriate. But I’m not going to apologize—you consented.”

“I’m not trying to get an apology,” Frank said softly, trying to offer some comfort to the other man. “I just wanted to know…what your thoughts were about…last night.”

“I was paying my debt,” Gerard said, dropping his gaze to the floor. “And trying to stab Todd in the back…” Frank sighed, his thoughts explicitly confirmed. “And I really, _really_ don’t want to sleep alone.”

“So…last night you just wanted to sleep in the bed.” Gerard scanned the floor and shrugged again.

“Among other things… Sorry it sucked. I’m not used to calling the shots, and I’m not comfortable enough with you yet to…you know.”

“Did you think I’d hurt you?” Frank asked, crossing his arms over his chest as his body suddenly became cold.

“It’s not like that,” Gerard muttered. “Look, I’m sorry I hurt you—I thought we were just two bored guys messing around. I should’ve known better, and I’m sorry. I _was_ using you, but I thought you were doing the same with me.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” Frank said. Gerard lowered his gaze to the floor ashamedly.

“It won’t happen again,” Gerard said, shrugging his shoulders and turning his back to Frank. “I’ll move out…I just have to wait for Mikey to get home from work.”

“You don’t have to move out,” Frank said quickly. The last thing he wanted was to chase Gerard out of his home. Gerard didn’t want to move in with Mikey, and Frank didn’t want to let the man go.

He knew they’d probably never develop a relationship beyond maybe a weak friendship, but he still felt that he was in some kind of love with the angry, bitter, selfish man.

“I don’t want to sleep on a couch every night.”

“So sleep in the bed,” Frank said in defeat. “We’ll share.”

“Cool,” Gerard said quickly. “I won’t touch you in your sleep or anything, if that’s got you worried. I can behave.”

“I’m not worried about it,” Frank said quickly. Gerard huffed.

“Didn’t think you would, stalker,” Gerard said, leaving the room. Frank scowled as his retreating form and rolled his eyes. It probably would’ve been a better idea to let Gerard move in with Mikey instead.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard slept with his back to Frank, even though he was more comfortable on his other side. He was happy to be sleeping on the bed, but he’d be even happier if he could sleep with his head on Frank’s shoulder and his leg over Frank’s thighs.

He should’ve just pretended to be in love with the man. It wouldn’t have caused any harm, and he would’ve been able to sleep where and how he was most comfortable. Screw honesty—he wanted intimacy. A guy could build a relationship on lies—he’d spent years with Todd doing just that.

With a sigh, Gerard gave in and rolled onto his other side. Frank was attractive. Frank was nice. Frank was interested in him. Why shouldn’t he give the guy a shot for something more than a friend with occasional benefits? It would save him the hassle of moving back out…and it wasn’t like he was going to meet anyone else’s standards anyway.

He had everything he needed right here—lying in bed with him. He’d been stupid to leave this and go elsewhere. Soon, he’d learn to love Frank.

He just had to make sure that he learned before Frank decided it was time for him to move out.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank was late home from work, but that didn’t stop Gerard from answering the door when someone knocked. He’d kind of had his hopes up that it would be Frank—having lost his keys or something so that he’d have an excuse to be so late without warning—but instead it was Ray.

“Oh…hey,” Gerard said, remembering the condition he’d been in the last time they’d spoken. He was embarrassed—all he remembered was a lot of blood, screaming, and tears.

“Um…hey, Gerard. How…how are you feeling?” Ray asked, looking around the hallway quickly before Gerard motioned him inside. Usually he wouldn’t be so trusting, but Ray was Frank’s friend and this _was_ Frank’s apartment…and Ray was kind of cute.

“I’m feeling a lot better,” Gerard answered. “Frank’s not home yet, but he should be back soon.”

“Would it be okay if I hung out here for a little bit until he gets home?” Ray asked. Gerard nodded—probably a bit too eagerly.

“Yeah—that’d be fine. I could use the company. It gets boring here.” Gerard locked the door behind him and watched Ray sit down on the couch that he’d bleached in order to get rid of the blood stain.

“I can tell you’ve been cleaning the place,” Ray said. “At least, I doubt Frank’s the one cleaning up.”

“Yeah—it’s all me,” Gerard said, sitting down beside Ray on the couch and turning on the television so the setting was less intimate. “I have to do something to keep my sanity.”

“Frank probably doesn’t help,” Ray said, forcing out a laugh. Ray seemed to behave as if he found the conversation awkward and it made Gerard nervous. He wanted to be sociable—to make a friend that wasn’t a friend of Todd’s, but he was seriously concerned that his humiliating display after leaving Todd’s apartment had already created an irreparable rift between them.

“Frank’s a really great guy,” Gerard said calmly. He hoped that if he played it cool, Ray would start to think higher of him. “He puts up with me pretty well.”

“I feel like it’d be more work for you to have to put up with _him._ Really, he’s a brat,” Ray said.

“I think we’re evenly matched. You don’t know me that well yet.”

“Point taken,” Ray said, kindly enough. “Maybe we could all hang out together some time at my place. Got anything going on this weekend?” Gerard felt flattered—Ray had practically spelled it out that he wanted to get to know him better. If Frank hadn’t assured him that Ray was straight, Gerard might’ve thought he was being hit on.

“I don’t think so. Maybe my brother Mikey could come—he’ll want to know more about my stalker and his friends.”

“Your stalker?” Ray asked, sounding startled.

“What else do you call the guy that listens at your door all the time and always tries to get a look at you?” Gerard found himself regretting his words when Ray gave him an almost angry look.

“In your case—it’s called a concerned neighbor.” Gerard guessed he shouldn’t be surprised. Ray was Frank’s friend—not his.

“It’s just a joke,” Gerard muttered, putting more space between himself and Ray on the couch. 

He wanted Frank to come home soon. He didn’t want visitors anymore.

“Frank knows I just say it to tease him,” Gerard said, feeling the spite rise in his guts. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have fucked me—do you want something to drink?” Gerard got to his feet and fixed Ray with an unreadable gaze. It was a sort of angry but vacant expression he’d adopted when waiting on Todd’s every need.

“Um—what…oh, water is fine?”

“Water?” Gerard asked, keeping his face blank as he watched Ray struggle to compose himself once again. 

“Uh…yeah,” Ray said, looking Gerard over carefully. Just as Gerard had entered the kitchen, he heard the door lock rattled, meaning Frank was finally home—over an hour late.

“Welcome home,” Gerard called emotionlessly from the kitchen as he listened to Frank lock the door behind him

“Hey, Gerard,” Frank called. “Oh, hey, Ray. What’s up?” Gerard listened to them talk as he filled Ray’s glass of water, and kept his face blank as he carried it to the house guest.

“Thanks,” Ray said as he took the glass. Gerard refused to accept the smile Ray gave him in return, and preferred to stare at the floor.

“I’m going to go clean up the bedroom,” Gerard said, refusing to accept any more unnecessary companionship.

“The bedroom doesn’t need cleaned,” Frank said, sighing in what had to be frustration.

Well fuck him, Gerard thought. You couldn’t bitch about someone who cleaned your apartment for free.

“Then I’m going to take a nap,” Gerard said, throwing his arms up.

“Wait,” Frank said. “I want to change clothes first.” Frank quickly hurried into the bedroom, leaving Gerard alone with Ray.

“You don’t have to hide from us, you know,” Ray said, trying to be friendly. Gerard immediately blocked his attempts. 

“It’s been a long day,” Gerard said. “I’m not feeling up to company.”

“Did I say something that upset you?” Ray asked. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m fine,” Gerard said. “Just tired.” Ray stared at him apologetically, letting Gerard remember why he thought the guy was oddly attractive. Although Ray was cute, Gerard had to admit that Frank was more his type. “Frank’ll keep me up all night,” he whispered, exaggerating an already exaggerated story. “I have to sleep sometime.”

“Well…I hope he treats you better than your last boyfriend did.” Gerard didn’t know whether he felt offended or not. “Frank talks tough, but he can be wimpy sometimes, so don’t be too hard on him. He’ll probably end up crying himself to sleep.” As he finished his sentence, Frank reemerged from his bedroom, buttoning his pants absently. 

“Who’s crying himself to sleep?” Frank asked.

“Mikey,” Gerard said. “He misses me so much.”

“Well, you’re the one who doesn’t want to move in with him,” Frank said softly.

“Well, _you’re_ the one who offered for me to stay here, so don’t bitch about it.”

“I’m not _bitching_ about anything!” Frank shouted. “I work overtime dealing with pissed off customers—I don’t need to come home to your bad attitude!”

“Fuck off!” Gerard spat, not caring that he started the argument, just accepting the challenge.

“Why are you _always_ starting a fight with me!?”

“Because you piss me off!” Gerard yelled, not caring that Ray was sitting there staring at them in surprise. 

“ _You_ piss me off!” Frank screamed, his voice cracking and his face starting to burn red. Gerard felt he might have let things got too far, and he’d planned to stay silent after that…but Frank had more to say. “It’s no wonder he was always hitting you!”

Gerard hadn’t expected the words to hurt as much as they did. He was used to Todd saying hurtful things and telling him why he deserved to get beaten…he wasn’t used to hearing it from someone else.

At first, all he could do was stand there and watch as Frank got himself back under control and realized what he’d said. Then Gerard felt his body beginning to shake with both pain and anger.

Frank couldn’t talk to him like that—he didn’t deserve to be talked to like that. Even if he was right—even if he knew that Gerard had provoked every blow he’d ever received—Frank didn’t have the right to point it out.

“You,” Gerard hissed, forcing himself to become angry so Frank couldn’t see him vulnerable again. “You can’t fucking talk to me like that. _Fuck_ you,” he hissed when Frank opened his mouth to defend himself or further assert his opinion. 

Gerard didn’t wait for Ray to jump in to defend his friend, or give Frank any more time to speak. He turned away from them and started for the front door of the apartment. The last thing he wanted was to corner himself in Frank’s bedroom and be forced to ‘discuss’ what was said.

He _knew_ he provoked Todd—he knew they fit together as an abusive couple. It was his own fault that he quit beating Todd back. He’d practically chosen to let himself become a victim. He _knew_ that—he _knew_ he’d always been asking for it.

The last thing he wanted was reminded. He didn’t want to admit that he’d left a perfect, chaotic relationship for no reason…

After slamming Frank’s door, Gerard contemplated leaving the apartment complex and going for a walk, but decided against it. There was nowhere he wanted to be…and only one place he belonged.

Feeling a sharp pain shoot through his chest, Gerard crept across the hallway to door 117A and knocked softly so that Frank wouldn’t hear. In the same amount of time that it took for Gerard to wish he hadn’t knocked, Todd had the door unlocked and was staring down at him in surprise.

“Gerard?” He said, like a principal about to receive an unpleasant student. 

“Hey, Todd,” Gerard said, immediately lowering his gaze to the hallway floor.

“Forget something?” Todd spat. “Don’t see how you could. You took every fuckin’ thing.”

“You hurt me,” Gerard mumbled, looking up to meet Todd’s gaze. The man had no expression. 

“What do you want? An apology?” Gerard stared at him sadly. Sometimes, that worked with Todd…sometimes. Not this time. “Get lost. I don’t want you here. You got the cops called on me.”

“Can I come in?” Gerard asked, looking over his shoulder at 114A nervously. He was afraid that Frank would open his door any second and catch him and force him back into ‘safety.’ 

“Fine,” Todd said with a deep sigh. He moved out of the way so Gerard could slip into the apartment and then closed the door with surprising silence. “Don’t expect to move back in—I’m seeing someone else.” Gerard felt the jealousy rip at his chest again—an emotion so strong that it rivaled his fear. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to come see you,” Gerard mumbled. As long as he played pathetic, Todd would be nice. 

“Yeah?” Todd said, quirking one of his perfect blonde eyebrows. 

“Yeah,” Gerard whimpered. He couldn’t help the shiver that ran through his body, or the stiffness it left in its wake, when Todd wrapped his arm around his waist and pulled him close.

“You want more than just to see, baby?” Todd said with a terrifying smirk as he forced his body against Gerard’s. 

“Yeah…” Gerard sighed. Todd could make him feel wanted again. Todd could give him purpose and make his life easy. If he went back to Todd, the only strain on him would be to move his things back from Frank’s apartment—and he could do that while Frank was at work and avoid the conflict. 

“I missed you, baby,” Todd slurred, forcing Gerard towards the bedroom and already trying to pull Gerard’s shirt from him.

“I miss you, too,” Gerard said softly, taking off his shirt so Todd would quit pulling it and stretching the fabric. Todd pushed him back against the bed when they reached the bedroom and Gerard fell willingly, opening his legs and letting Todd rip the rest of the clothes from his body before crawling between them.

This was where he belonged—under Todd, getting hurt, leaving marks in return where he could, and associating with no one else.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard lay in Todd’s bed after it was over, naked and weakly curled into a ball as he watched Todd redress. He was hurting, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. Todd had actually made an attempt to be gentle, so Gerard considered himself lucky.

“You okay, baby?” Todd asked quietly. Gerard looked at him in surprise. Todd hadn’t asked him how he’d felt in months.

“What?” Gerard asked, too startled to think. Todd was being nice…he loved it.

“I got you good in the face. You didn’t have to go to the hospital did you?” Todd sat down beside Gerard on the bed once he’d dressed and started petting Gerard’s hair far too gently.

“No,” Gerard said softly. “But you hurt me.”

“You came back,” Todd muttered. Gerard sniffed and rolled onto his back, pulling one of Todd’s blankets over his body.

“I love you,” Gerard whispered. “No one else puts up with me.” Todd made an almost sad sound and leaned down to kiss him, still petting his hair.

“Yeah, you’re a handful, baby.”

“Am I not likeable?” Gerard asked, reaching up to stroke the hand that Todd had running though his hair. He looked Todd in the cold, unforgiving eyes and sighed.

“I like you well enough. Isn’t that good enough for you?” Todd said, pulling his hand away.

“Yeah,” Gerard mumbled.

“But you left.”

“You _hurt_ me,” Gerard argued, moving to sit up. Todd pushed him back down by the shoulders, and Gerard gave in and laid still. 

“Not so badly that you couldn’t take all of your shit with you.” Gerard stayed quiet and stared at the ceiling. He should have never left Todd. He’d just made his life harder than it needed to be. Fuck Frank for doing this to him. If that stalker had just minded his own business, Gerard would be fine in Todd’s at least somewhat loving care. “I wish you hadn’t left, baby. My new boyfriend’s not as good as you in bed.” Gerard looked at Todd sadly.

“You won’t take me back?” Gerard asked. Worry was setting in, but he was still feeling numb. He didn’t want to stay with Frank anymore, and he really didn’t want to move in with Mikey or his parents…Todd was his only way out of the embarrassing mess. He should never have let anyone else get involved with him—he was safe with Todd. Todd made him numb. Todd couldn’t really hurt him any more than physically.

“You moved out,” Todd answered. “I’m not moving you back in here.”

“I can’t come back?” Gerard asked, trying to sit up again. Todd shoved him back down harder.

“No.” Gerard stared up at him sadly. Sometimes, sad worked on Todd. Todd was capable of pity—and loved vulnerability.

“But I love you,” Gerard whispered.

“You _left_ me!” Todd spat.

“You _hurt_ me,” Gerard whined. 

“You pissed me off!” Todd shouted, slapping Gerard hard across the face. Gerard quickly rolled onto his side and buried his face in the pillow. “You deserved to get hurt!” Gerard whimpered, giving up on winning the fight. “Sent your brother over here to scream to everybody that I’m a fucking murderer—you’re lucky I don’t kill you now.” Gerard just burrowed farther into the pillow and pulled the blanket tighter around him. “You gonna go to sleep?” Todd asked, his tone suddenly going back to normal. Gerard nodded against the pillow. “Okay. I’ll get you in up in a couple of hours.”

Todd petted Gerard’s hair gently before leaving the room, as if nothing had ever happened. Gerard couldn’t decide if it was better here with Todd whose insults barely hurt, or with Frank who never hit him. At least when he was with Todd he knew what to expect and he was never in anyone’s debt.


	6. Chapter 6

Frank was sitting on his couch watching television and enjoying his Monday off work. Gerard’s belongings were all still in his apartment, and the man hadn’t come around since he’d stormed out over a week ago. Frank assumed he’d gone back to Todd, even though Frank kept seeing Todd’s new boyfriend coming and going regularly.

Where else would he have gone? Mikey had already been at Frank’s apartment twice, looking for Gerard and pissed off that Frank had just ‘let him leave.’ What was he supposed to do? Grab Gerard and force him back inside when he’d tried to leave? Gerard had a mind of his own, and Frank wasn’t about to fight with him anymore.

Gerard had to learn on his own. Not everyone was the enemy, and not everyone was his willing victim. He was a bully and he needed to grow out of it. Moving back in with an even greater bully wasn’t exactly the way to do it, but who was Frank to judge? He just wanted Gerard to come back to get his shit out of his apartment.

Just as the show he was watching reached its climax, there was a soft knock on Frank’s door. Immediately, he knew who it would be. He was tempted to let the knocking go unnoticed, but he took pity on his guest and stood up.

He went to the door and pulled it open, instantly taking in the pitiful expression on Gerard’s face. He’d gotten himself another black eye, and had his left hand pressed to his cheek and covering his mouth as if there were something hurting his jaw.

“Come for your stuff?” Frank asked. Gerard stared at him sadly and then squeezed his eyes shut, as if to say no. “You’re not moving back in?” Frank said, keeping his defenses up.

“Please?” Gerard murmured, holding his jaw a little tighter and shuddering. Frank opened his door further and stepped back so Gerard could come inside. 

“No more getting pissed off at me for stupid shit, okay?” Frank said, closing the door behind Gerard. “I’m not going to spend every day fighting with you.” Gerard nodded and sank down onto the couch in silence. Frank sat beside him and looked at the television. The commercials were on. “Been with Todd?” He asked, managing to keep the tone of judgment out of his voice.

“Yeah,” Gerard answered. 

“He hurt you again?” Frank asked, trying to open the door for conversation. Gerard whimpered and nodded.

“It was a mistake,” Gerard said. “He hit me the day I went back. Should’ve left then.”

“Gerard, I didn’t mean it when I said what I did,” Frank said. “You don’t deserve—”

“I get what I’m asking for,” Gerard said. “I was asking to get hit when I went back. I just thought maybe he’d learned his lesson and would change. I loved him so much. I wanted to give him another chance.” Frank sighed and placed a gentle hand on the other man’s shoulder. 

“I saw he still had his other boyfriend over,” Frank said. Gerard rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue.

“Yeah.” He rubbed his jaw softly and Frank continued rubbing his shoulder.

“What did he do to your jaw?” Frank asked.

“Punched me. It’s not broken—just hurts.” Gerard lowered his hand from his cheek and looked at Frank tiredly. “Mikey came over. Made Todd angry.”

“Mikey’s going to kill you,” Frank said, letting his hand drop from Gerard’s shoulder.

“I know,” Gerard mumbled. “He’s going to _make_ me move in with him.”

“Maybe…maybe you should,” Frank said. “It’s not good for you to live so close to your ex.”

“But I like living with you,” Gerard mumbled. “I’ll be better this time. I won’t fight with you. I just one last chance.” 

“Okay,” Frank said. “New rules though—if you get offended by something I say, don’t argue with me. Just tell me I made you mad and I’ll apologize.”

“Okay,” Gerard answered. “And I’ll…sleep on the couch.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Frank said, returning his attention to the television. “The restaurant across from where I work is hiring servers. You should go there and get a job.”

“Okay,” Gerard said with a deep sigh.

“Don’t sound so negative—you need a job,” Frank scolded. “You can’t _be_ picky.”

“I just don’t like food service,” Gerard mumbled. “Do you know of any stores hiring? Like…a craft store or a book store…?”

“I could check on my walk home tomorrow to see if anywhere else has signs up. You’ll have to get your applications yourself.” Gerard hummed softly and stared at the floor. “Do you think Todd’s going to give you any trouble if he sees you?”

“Not any I’m not used to. I’ll be okay. He likes his new boyfriend.” Gerard sighed and Frank felt a small stab of pain in his chest. Somehow, he still felt pity for the aggressive idiot he’d mistakenly fallen in love with. Though he would admit that that affection had seriously dissipated into a weak tie of friendship.

( ) ( ) ( )

After getting a job, Gerard had turned into a whiny baby…a whiny baby that Frank somehow found cute. He’d come home, flop down onto the couch and moan out the description of the worst part of his day. Most of the time it was kids stealing the craft store’s expensive markers or having to clean up some spill or paint explosion. 

But then, as soon as he was done complaining, he always said the same thing.

“What about you? How was your day?” Even if Frank hadn’t had work, he’d still ask. And he listened. He learned the names and behaviors of Frank’s co-workers, and asked about them if they weren’t brought up. Like “and where was Steven when this was going on?” because Steven was the one who was supposed to keep order. Frank liked that Gerard listened—even if he had to vent before he could possibly lend an ear.

As for Gerard’s brother Mikey, he was still pissed off that Gerard wasn’t living with him. He showed up twice a week to make sure that no one forgot how unhappy he was with the situation. But Gerard didn’t seem to let his brother’s annoyance get to him. He was calmer the more he got out. It was like the forced social interaction removed all of his tension.

“Frank—I bought scones!” Gerard screamed as soon as he came inside on the fourth week of his job.

“Cool,” Frank called from the kitchen where he was getting a cup of water. “I paid the rent.”

“No,” Gerard said, swinging into the kitchen and dropping the small, cardboard box onto the counter beside the sink. “I bought us scones to go with dinner.”

“Thanks,” Frank said, turning around and looking Gerard over. “You’ve got paint on your shirt.”

“Yeah—I was taking samples of the new acrylic colors we bought.”

“You’re your own best customer, Gerard,” Frank said, laughing and then poking at the pastry box.

“I know—but I like it. It’s really inspiring. I haven’t painted in like…a _year._ The scones are blueberry with brown sugar dust—they’re good.” Gerard left the kitchen and Frank heard him close the door to the bathroom.

When he was in a good mood, Frank’s feelings for him started to stir…and those old ashes were trying to reignite. Especially since Gerard was almost _always_ in a good mood. And that meant no fighting, no yelling, and no misunderstandings.

“Oh!” Gerard called, coming out of the bathroom and shaking the water off of his hands because he was always too lazy to use the hand towel. “And I ordered a pizza for dinner—veggie supreme. You like that, right?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Frank said, looking at Gerard in confusion. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” Gerard said, smiling. “But…I’m gonna bet late on the utilities payment.”

“Why?” Frank asked. 

“I…ordered more things than I had money for from the store. I just told them to take it out of my paycheck and they said ‘just this once.’ I really wanted to the new limited release seasonal colors—they’re so vibrant!”

“Gerard, you could’ve just _not_ bought scones and pizza and you could at least have paid _part_ of the bill!” Frank scolded, not really able to get mad at him. 

“But…I wanted pizza and the scones looked really good on the poster outside the café.” Gerard looked at him like a small child and Frank sighed. 

“Limited edition colors, hu?” Frank said.

“Yeah. Spring Merlot, Lime Apple—”

“Lime _Apple?_ ”

“—Sea Sky—”

“ _Sea Sky?_ ”

“—Daisy Yellow…a whole bunch of colors.”

“You went to art school. Can’t you just mix these colors yourself?” Frank asked. Gerard lowered his eyes to the floor.

“Yeah, but…they’re the limited edition…Spring Mix collection.”

“How much did they cost?”

“Eight dollars a tube,” Gerard said as if that were some great deal. “But I get them for six-fifty from my employee discount.”

“And you bought…how many?”

“All of them—all…twelve of them. And some canvases…and brushes and other stuff.”

“Will you ever get a pay check again?” Frank asked, forcing out a laugh. He couldn’t really get mad. The bills had barely gone up since Gerard had moved in, and he was more than capable of paying them both…just as long as he held back when grocery shopping for a while.

“In two weeks,” Gerard said with a smile. “And my stuff should be in next week—I special ordered.”

“ _Why?_ ” Frank asked. “You’ve got everything in the store, why _special_ order?”

“Because it’s…special stuff,” Gerard mumbled, raising his shoulders defensively. 

Just then, the buzzer sounded and Frank rolled his eyes.

“You’re grounded,” Frank said, going over and answering the buzzer. It was the pizza.

“I already paid for the pizza in the store,” Gerard said. “Tip and all. Don’t give him anything.”

“You walked into a pizza parlor and ordered delivery?” Frank said in vague disbelief. Gerard shrugged.

“I didn’t feel like waiting around. What’s the big deal?” Frank sighed and waited by the door for the delivery man, listening as Gerard got the plates out in the kitchen. Frank felt strange not giving the man a tip, but let it go as he closed the door and carried the pizza box into the kitchen. “What about you? How was your day?”

“Busy,” Frank said. “It was a long day.”

“Will scones help?” Gerard asked, handing Frank the cardboard box once he had his pizza on his plate. 

“Yeah,” Frank said. “Scones will help—scones and pizza, we’re really class people.” Gerard giggled and sauntered into the living room with his plate and a paper towel. Frank continued to tell about his day, letting Gerard antagonize his co-workers when it wasn’t really necessary.

“Hey, Frank?” Gerard asked as he washed the dishes like a housewife. 

“Yeah?” Frank asked, putting the left over piece of pizza in the fridge. 

“Do you want to watch a movie tonight?”

“Um…okay,” Frank answered. “Sure, what movie?” 

“I don’t know…what are you in the mood for?” Frank shrugged even though Gerard couldn’t see him and looked over the rack of movies in the living room. 

“How about _Nightmare on Elm Street?_ ”

“Original or remake?” Gerard asked.

“Either. I have both.”

“How about…the original?” Gerard asked.

“Sure,” Frank answered. “I’ll go ahead and put it in.”

“No—No, I’ll get it,” Gerard called, turning off the faucet in the kitchen quickly and shaking the water off of his hands as he hurried in the room. “I got it,” he said as he took the box from Frank’s hand and hurried over to the television. “So, um…you like this movie?”

“Yeah,” Frank answered, looking at Gerard with mounting suspicion. “That’s why I bought it.” What was Gerard up to? Dinner, dessert, a movie? Being insistent about being polite. Was Gerard trying to initiate a date?

“Sorry,” Gerard said. “Dumb question.”

“It’s fine,” Frank answered, hitting the button so the DVD player would appear on the screen. Frank sat down on the couch and waited for Gerard to sit down beside him, choosing to keep his suspicions to himself.

Gerard was quiet as the movie played out, even though they’d both seen it a million times and Frank kept attempting to hold a conversation over top of it. 

“So…what was with the scones? That’s a pretty weird thing to just pick up,” Frank asked during the end credits.

“Oh…They looked good on the poster outside of the café…”

“But with pizza?”

“It looked good, too. Did you not like them?”

“They were fine,” Frank said. “I just thought maybe you had…something in mind?”

“Oh—Frank, I wasn’t, no! No—No, I wasn’t…I-I…” Gerard stammered and scooted far away from Frank on the couch. “It does look that way, doesn’t it? Uh—it’s just dinner, dessert, and movie.”

“So…a date?” Frank said, putting on a small smile. Gerard blushed and shook his head.

“No,” he said, his voice getting oddly high-pitched. “Nope—no, a date—on a date I’d…I’d _take_ you to the restaurant, and then _walk_ with you to the café and buy you coffee…and then we’d _go_ to the movie and—and I’d walk you home.”

“But you spent all of your money on Lime Apple paint, so all you could afford was pizza and scones.” Gerard’s eyes lowered to the floor as if Frank had yelled at him. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like an insult. “You’re cute,” Frank said, grabbing Gerard’s face and pressing a hard kiss onto his lips. Gerard made a soft noise and Frank watched his eyelids flutter. “Still have nothing else on your mind?” Frank asked. 

“I can pay you back for not being able to make the utility payment because of my awful lack of judgment and addiction to seasonal items,” Gerard said, panting softly and looking at Frank with thinly-veiled desperation. 

“Oh, you can?” Frank asked, playing along and moving to keep his face close to Gerard’s, their noses almost touching. Gerard made a soft sound and touched their lips together again softly.

“Yeah,” Gerard whispered. Frank lifted a hand and ran it through Gerard’s hair softly, holding his head steady as he deepened the kiss. Gerard shifted closer and ran his hand up Gerard’s thigh, grasping at his hip almost desperately. 

Frank broke the kiss and let his hand fall from the back of Gerard’s head to caress his cheek. Gerard looked like he might have had something to say, but he remained silent.

“Bedroom?” Frank said when the quiet became too much.

“Yeah,” Gerard mumbled, getting up from the couch slowly and creeping towards the bedroom. When he reached the doorway of the bedroom, he stopped and looked back at Frank. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, getting to his feet and reaching the other man’s side with a few quick strides. He’d been distracted, letting himself wonder if this meant anything or if it was the same as last time. “Sorry—I was just watching you walk.” Frank winked at Gerard as he passed him on their way to the bed, and caught his flustered facial expression in the dimming light. 

“Not much of a show,” Gerard mumbled, pulling his shirt off over his head and then immediately starting on the button of his pants. Frank pulled off his shirt with his back to Gerard, letting the man step out of his pants in private even though it wasn’t necessary. As soon as Frank hand his clothes off, Gerard crept up behind him and placed his head on his shoulder. 

There was something different about this time than the time before, Frank now realized. Gerard was being much more affectionate, and going a lot slower than before. If he was just using Frank again, he was really trying hard to hide it. 

Frank turned around and let Gerard kiss him, opening his mouth for the other man’s tongue and running his hands down Gerard’s bare hips. He let Gerard back him towards the bed, and then allowed Gerard to pull away in order to crawl onto the bed.   
Frank watched Gerard move for a moment and then climbed onto the bed beside him. Gerard rolled onto his back and opened his legs, waiting for Frank to move between them. Frank hesitated a moment as he opened the bedside drawer to pull out the bottle of lube. Gerard was behaving differently this time, but he still had his doubts about why. It just didn’t seem realistic that Gerard suddenly decided he had feelings for Frank that he hadn’t had before…but Frank didn’t want to think that he was being used again.

“Are you okay?” Gerard asked. “We don’t…have to, if you don’t want to.”

“It’s fine,” Frank said, leaning over Gerard’s body and kissing him gently on the lips. Gerard returned the kiss raised his hand to wind his fingers through Frank’s hair. He deepened the kiss slowly and moved to allow Frank to climb over top him. 

Frank pulled away in order to pour some of the lube on his fingers, listening to Gerard’s quiet moan as he slipped the first one inside. Gerard stayed relaxed, making nothing but soft sounds as Frank prepped him two and finally three fingers. 

When he pulled away to grab a condom from his bedside drawer, Gerard let out a quiet, almost sad, sigh. Until Frank was back on top of him, Gerard didn’t move. 

Frank tried not to stare at the scars that lined Gerard’s chest and even in places on his throat, leftovers from bad nights with Todd. He pressed his lips over a thin scar on the side of Gerard’s neck as he lined up and slowly began to push his way in. He felt Gerard’s soft groan vibrate against his lips and sighed. Frank started to thrust gently, trying to stay in tune with Gerard’s noises and movements. He wanted to make sure Gerard was okay, and the only way to find out was to pay attention.

If something hurt, Gerard would hold his breath for a second and then let the breath go in a small, quiet cough. If something felt good, Gerard would moan, or arch his back, or grip at Frank’s shoulders harder…or if he _pretending_ that something felt good. 

Frank moved gently, letting Gerard rock against him while pumping his erection with one hand. Frank didn’t understand why Todd had to hurt him to get satisfaction when Gerard was so eager to please. If Frank moved to kiss him, Gerard would return it passionately. When Frank changed his pace, Gerard matched it with his hips. He didn’t miss a beat.

Gerard made a soft noise in the back of his throat and arched his back off the mattress. Frank kissed his softly, running his tongue along Gerard’s lower lip. Gerard opened his mouth eagerly and ran his fingers through Frank’s hair, holding his head still so the kiss could go deeper. 

Frank moaned and broke the kiss to get air, driven to thrust harder by the guttural moan Gerard let out in place of a breath. The faster Frank moved, the more of a reaction he got from Gerard. The rougher it was, the more Gerard liked it.

Frank was one to be gentle with his lovers, but he felt he’d rather give his lover what he wanted—he’d rather go out of his own comfort zone than lose Gerard to Todd again.

The sounds Gerard made grew more desperate as Frank started moving faster and harder. And the moans turned from frantic sounds to fractured words that Frank almost couldn’t understand.

“Frank,” he sighed, jerking his hips. “Love you—love you, ah!” Frank froze for a second, but Gerard’s almost frightened sound forced him to continue to move through his stupor. 

Love? Did Gerard actually mean that, or was this just another part of one of Gerard’s games? Frank remembered all too well that last time that they had been together like this. Gerard had used him and manipulated him. He really hoped this time wasn’t anything like that.

Frank felt his climax building and moved a little faster, listening to Gerard’s loud moans and grunts. Gerard fisted a hand in Frank’s hair and pulled him down for another kiss and refused to let go. Even when Frank tried to lift his head as he came, Gerard held him tight and kept kiss and sucking at his lips. 

Frank almost felt ashamed when Gerard came several moments later, letting go of Frank’s hair in order to focus more on stroking himself to get off. It seemed like he’d done something wrong when Gerard to come by his own hand. 

Gerard sighed softly when Frank pulled out, but—just as the time before—grabbed Frank by the arm and kept his trapped on the bed. Frank had to remove the condom with one hand and managed to get it into the bedside trashcan despite Gerard starting to crawl over top of him. 

The only condition Gerard seemed to have regarding sex was a massive amount of cuddling and a nap. Frank knew he wasn’t going to be allowed to get up, so he let Gerard lay comfortably on his shoulder and wrapped his arms around the other man.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard’s paints came in, and Frank hadn’t really had a moment’s peace since then. Gerard painted…everything in his new spring colours. There were paint drops on the floors and on the walls and on the curtains—in the sinks, on the counters, in their _bed._ Canvases were taking up too much space in the small apartment, and finished paintings were running out of places to be displayed.

At first, Frank had been surprised at how good at art Gerard really was. But that excitement quickly turned to despair when Gerard spent all of his time on manic episodes. Painting every day, all day, all night—being late for work because he couldn’t get a line right. It was an addiction—an addiction worse than alcohol or cocaine. 

Gerard didn’t belong working at a craft store, Frank realized. He wasn’t supposed to sell paints to people, he was meant to be using them and expressing his creativity. But that wasn’t what was getting the bills paid.

“I’m out of paint,” Gerard said one morning. Frank woke up to the man leaning over top of him to stare him in the eye. Frank stiffened in fear, almost feeling that Gerard was going to choke him to death in his bed. 

“Oh,” Frank said, staring at Gerard in fear. The other man leaned back and then plopped down beside Frank on the bed.

“They don’t sell the colours anymore…”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” Frank said, sitting up slowly.

“I think I’m gonna go back to sketching. They don’t have limited edition charcoals.” It was like Gerard’s feelings had been hurt because the tubes of paint had run out—like it was a personal attack from the world that made the colours he suddenly loved unavailable to him.

“Okay,” Frank said, afraid of what to say. He didn’t want Gerard to snap at him. They’d been officially dating for over a week, and he didn’t want their first fight to be about paint. “Do you work today?”

“I called off…” Gerard said, staring at him. “I’m sick.”

“Oh,” Frank said, reaching up to stroke Gerard’s cheek. “Do you need me to get you medicine from the store on my way home?”

“No,” Gerard said, looking away and then laying down on the bed. “I just need to sleep for a while.” Frank reached over and petted Gerard’s hair softly. He didn’t understand Gerard’s feelings at the moment, but accepted them. Maybe Gerard was behaving as if he were hurt because, in losing his paints, he’d lost his voice—his ability to express himself. 

So, after leaving work for the day, Frank stopped in the craft store to pick up a sketch pad and what the sales associate said the best charcoal pencils were…including a strange, gummy eraser that Frank didn’t understand.

He didn’t know how Gerard would react when he got the gifts, but Frank guessed it couldn’t be too bad. And nothing was worse than seeing his lover sad and in pain.


	7. Chapter 7

Gerard hadn’t taken his lips off of Frank’s for more than fifteen minutes since he’d gotten the gifts Frank had bought for him.

“That’s so sweet,” Gerard had said, hugging Frank tightly. Of course, the hug turned to a kiss, the kiss turned to sex, the sex turned to Gerard’s obsessive cuddling…Frank was still trying to get out of the bed two hours later. 

Gerard wouldn’t let him go. Every time Frank would try, Gerard would pull him closer and kiss him…it wasn’t fair that the other man was slightly more strong that he was. 

“I love you,” Gerard mumbled into the back of Frank’s neck. Frank quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t respond. Gerard always said those words, but Frank wouldn’t say them back. It wasn’t true. When Gerard said them, they weren’t true…

“I’m hungry,” Frank said, staring at the wall as Gerard continued to cuddle him. 

“Oh…” He sounded hurt, and Frank completely understood. No one wanted to hear ‘I’m hungry’ in response to love. “I’ll go out and get us something.” Gerard pulled away and sat up slowly. 

“I’ll come with you,” Frank said, sitting up as well and pressing a gentle kiss to Gerard’s shoulder.

“No,” Gerard said. “I can go…”

“I want to come with you,” Frank said, placing his chin on Gerard’s shoulder and humming softly. He never meant to hurt his feelings…

“I’m not gonna cheat on you while I’m out…” Gerard said, getting out of bed and pulling on his clothes sadly. “I don’t cheat.”

“I didn’t think you were going to cheat—I just want to be seen with my boyfriend.” Frank grabbed Gerard’s hand and pulled him back onto the bed. Gerard sighed and ran a finger through Frank’s hair, tucking a strand of it behind his ear.

“Do you love me?” Gerard asked, staring Frank in the eye. Under the weight of the gaze, Frank looked away. That answered the question before he even opened his mouth. “Okay,” Gerard said, pulling out of Frank’s arms and getting to the door of the bedroom quickly. “I’m gonna take a walk…I’ll come back with something to eat.” Frank nodded and stared at the bed sheets.

He didn’t come back for three hours, and when he returned he had Chinese that needed reheated. Frank kept his mouth shut as he picked the meat out of his bowl and tried to pretend it hadn’t been there to begin with. It was obvious that Gerard had been crying, and Frank didn’t dare make it worse by saying a negative word to him.

“I’m gonna sleep…on the couch tonight,” Gerard said softly as he rinsed his dishes.

“No,” Frank said quickly. “No, Baby—no. You don’t have to—don’t do that. Please—I don’t want to fight.”

“It’s not a fight, I just…I want to be alone.” Gerard threw away his take-out box and walked back to the living room with his head down. 

“Don’t be mad,” Frank called, chasing him and putting a hand on his shoulder even though he knew Gerard wouldn’t want him to. “Please, Gerard. I’m sorry—please…”

“I work at six…I need to go to bed,” Gerard mumbled. Frank whimpered, hoping the noise would get Gerard’s attention. It didn’t work. Gerard just stole his pillow from the bedroom, grabbed a spare blanket, and threw them on the couch.

“Kiss goodnight?” Frank asked, intentionally pitiful.

“No,” Gerard mumbled. Frank sighed, knowing he should let it go, but not able to. 

“Gerard,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine—I’m going to bed.”

“You aren’t even in your pajamas,” Frank argued. Gerard glared at him and buried himself in the sheets.

“So?” Gerard snapped. “What do you care?”

“Gerard, I _love_ you!” Frank called. “I just don’t say it! I love you—please.”

“Whatever,” Gerard said, wrapping himself up in his blanket and turning his back to Frank and the living room. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night,” Frank whispered, turning off the lamp so Gerard could sleep peacefully. 

It was amazing how quickly a night could be ruined…

( ) ( ) ( )

When Frank got home from work, Mikey was there. Sitting on his couch, glaring daggers at him while Gerard messed with something in the kitchen.

“Sup?” Frank asked. Mikey shrugged.

“Not much—want to tell me again how much you ‘care’ about my brother? So much that he should live here with you and not with me?” Frank sighed and closed his eyes tightly. Never in his lift had he ever been in a situation quite like this.

“Let it go, Mikey,” Gerard said, coming into the living room carrying two cups of coffee. 

“Whatever,” Mikey hissed. 

“How was your day?” Gerard asked. 

“Fine,” Frank sighed. “You?”

“Can’t complain.” 

“I’ll be in our room,” Frank said, wringing his keys in his hand and stalking towards the bedroom, trying not to feel hurt when Gerard said nothing. He stayed in the room for two hours listening to Mikey and Gerard talk. After that, he just laid on top of the blankets and went to sleep…

He woke up alone and late for work the next morning.

( ) ( ) ( )

“You home?” Gerard called as soon as he let himself into the apartment. Frank looked over his shoulder at the bedroom doorway where Gerard soon appeared. “Hey…” 

“Sup?” Frank said, nodding to him and then continuing with his work rearranging his drawers. 

“How was work?” Gerard asked, picking at his fingernails and leaning on the doorframe.

“I was late…by an hour.”

“Oh,” Gerard mumbled. “I got in trouble today.”

“Did you get fired?” Frank asked, closing one drawer and moving onto the next. 

“No,” Gerard said softly. “Did you?”

“No,” Frank mumbled.

“Do you…want me to start dinner?” Gerard asked quietly.

“I already ate. Fix something for yourself.” Frank slammed the second drawer and moved onto the third.

“Oh,” Gerard breathed. “Okay.” He lingered in the doorway for a moment and then walked off. He didn’t go into the kitchen, he left the apartment.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank got up for work the next morning after having gone to bed while Gerard was still missing from the apartment. He briefly wondered if he’d gone back to Todd _again,_ but tried to keep the thought out of his mind. 

When he left his bedroom, he found Gerard asleep on the couch. It was Gerard’s day off work, so Frank left him sleep. He took a quick shower, dressed, and left in silence. It was a lot like living alone again and he hated it. He’d gotten too used to Gerard’s company, and he had the sinking feeling that Gerard was going to be disappearing soon. 

The whole time he was at work, the feeling drove him slowly insane. He couldn’t leave fast enough, he couldn’t run fast enough to his apartment—he couldn’t get in the door quickly enough, just to verify that Gerard hadn’t disappeared.

“What’s wrong?” Gerard said as soon as Frank burst in. He was watching television, changing the channel just as Frank had come in. 

“Nothing,” Frank said, more than a little out of breath.

“Okay…” Gerard stared at him and then turned back to the TV. 

“Are we…are we still fighting?” Frank asked, shutting the door and leaning back against it, prepared to stop Gerard if he even thought of running away.

Gerard stayed quiet. For Frank, that was answer enough.

“Did you run here because you thought I’d be gone?” Gerard asked as Frank slowly went to his bedroom.

“No,” Frank lied. “Why? Are you thinking of leaving?”

“Why?” Gerard asked. “Do you want me to?”

“No,” Frank answered.

“Cool,” Gerard mumbled. Frank sighed and slid into the kitchen to get something to drink.

“Gerard?” Frank called as he wandered back into the living room. 

“What?” Gerard answered.

“I don’t want to fight,” he moaned as he dropped onto the couch, giving Gerard his space.

“Okay,” Gerard said, staring at the TV.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say I love you,” Frank mumbled.

“It doesn’t matter,” Gerard said. “I can’t _make_ you have feelings for me that you don’t have. You don’t love me—I get it. I don’t care.”

“No,” Frank attempted. “No, it’s not that—”

“Frank, I’m used to no one loving me,” Gerard said, looking at Frank lazily. “I don’t care…”

“Gerard, it’s not that I don’t—”

“Shut up,” Gerard said, looking back at the television screen. “I don’t want your love.” Frank felt like he’d been slapped, even though he knew Gerard was just pouting. “I mean—we’re just two bored, gay dudes burning off some energy.”

“Gerard!”

“No!” The other man snapped. “No! When I fuck and it doesn’t mean anything, I get bitched at! When _you_ do it and it means nothing to you, I’m just supposed to live with it. Screw you—I give you my heart and you just… _spit on it._ ”

“It wasn’t like that!” Frank pleaded. “Gerard—I _do_ love you.”

“No you don’t,” Gerard said, voice lacking emotion. “And I don’t want you to. Forget it. I’m done.”

“With this argument or our relationship?” Frank asked, trying not to get annoyed.

“Feeling. I don’t want to feel anymore.”

“Oh—stop over reacting!” Frank snapped, getting up off of the couch.

“Fine,” Gerard muttered. 

“So am I single now, or are you still my boyfriend?” Frank asked, tossing his hands up in defeat. Gerard stared at the television and blinked slowly.

“Single,” Gerard breathed. “But we can still fuck. Since it doesn’t mean anything…”

“Goddamnit,” Frank spat. “It didn’t mean _nothing!_ It meant a lot, but—”

“No it didn’t. I told you that I loved you, and you said you were hungry.” 

“And I felt bad! It just—”

“I’m hungry,” Gerard interrupted. “How do _you_ like to hear that when you’re having an important conversation?” Frank sighed and sat back down on the arm of the couch.

“It sucks—but I don’t want us to be over. Gerard, I really care a lot about you—”

“Yeah, and so does Greg—because when I show up for work, he doesn’t have to cover for me.”

“Gerard, I love you!”

“And I’m _hungry._ ” Gerard glared at Frank bitterly. Frank sighed and got up from the couch. 

“Okay…so…single?”

“Yup,” Gerard sighed. “You’re single, and I’m undesirable.”

“Well maybe if you weren’t such a _bitch!_ ” Frank snapped. He glared at Gerard, but cursed himself immediately when he saw Gerard’s face just before he collapsed into tears. It was like Frank had shot him in the heart. “Baby, I didn’t mean it!” Frank called, going to Gerard’s side and rubbing his shoulders. “Please—don’t cry! I love you—let’s not break up. We’ll work it out. You’re not a bitch—I didn’t mean it, really. Please.” Gerard pushed him away and covered his face with his hands. 

Gerard sobbed something incomprehensible into his hands and Frank managed to pull him into his arms. The other man began to sob onto his chest which made Frank somewhat confident that Gerard wasn’t going to run away and leave him behind. 

“I just wanted to hear it!” Gerard cried out—the first comprehensible words Frank had heard since his outburst. “I wanted to hear you say it.”

“I know,” Frank whimpered, holding Gerard tighter and nuzzling his hair. “I’m sorry. I love you—I’d do anything for you. You know that—but I’ll say it from now on. Whenever you say it, whenever you don’t—I’ll say it. I love you.” Gerard made a soft, groan-like cooing sound and relaxed against Frank’s body.

And just like that, the fight was over. Gerard said nothing else and Frank cuddled him closer. And finally, Frank got Gerard to sleep in bed with him again.

( ) ( ) ( )

He and Gerard were sleeping in on Sunday morning, cuddling in and out of their sleepy daze. A door slammed across the hall and Gerard stirred. Frank pulled him closer and rested his chin atop Gerard’s head.

“Get back inside!” A man shouted in the hallway.

“Stay the fuck away from me!” Another screamed back. 

Gerard made a soft sound and squeezed Frank tighter with his arms.

“Get back inside!” Todd yelled again. There were footsteps—one man chasing the other. “You can’t _leave_ me!”

“Frank,” Gerard mumbled. Frank held his boyfriend a little tighter and nuzzled his hair.

“You’re safe,” Frank whispered. “He won’t hurt you—I’ve got you.”

“I love you,” Gerard mumbled. 

“I love you, too,” Frank whispered. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“He knows I live here,” Gerard whispered. “If this guy gets away, Todd’ll come for me.”

“No,” Frank muttered. “You’re okay. He can’t get to you. He can’t have you.” Gerard made a noise of refusal and sighed, opening his eyes.

“I wish I’d never met him…but then I’d never have met you.” Frank sighed and opened his eyes as well, staring at the wall. “How long do you think we’ll stay together?” 

Frank raised his brow in confusion and quickly cleared his throat.

“Um…Considering I don’t become any more of an ass…and you don’t leave me for some…travelling paint salesman, I think we could last for a few good years before you get bored of me.” Gerard chuckled, but then shivered as the sounds of screaming came back down the hall. Todd had caught his runaway boyfriend and was dragging him back to the prison of an apartment.

“Travelling salesman would be good,” Gerard mumbled before laughing softly. “He’d get me all of the limited edition colours.”

“But you don’t want to have to move around all the time or wait for him to come home,” Frank attempted.

“I like to travel. No one would be able to find me…ever.” Frank sighed softly and leaned over to kiss Gerard’s cheek.

“But staying in one place with me is pretty good though, right?” Gerard sighed and shrugged his shoulder.

“Good enough for now,” he said. Frank felt a pull in his chest and frowned. He was desperate to keep his disappointment from showing. Gerard had literally just said that their relationship was only temporary. It hurt. He’d been watching Gerard and loving him from a distance for months and months…now he would get maybe a year at most with the man before he ran off with someone better suited to him.

Someone he can yell at, someone who understood his art and need for colours. Someone to control who will control him right back. Frank was his rebound…someone to get him back onto his feet and rebuild his confidence. 

“I’m gonna get something to eat,” Gerard said, pulling out of Frank’s arms and getting out of bed. Frank laid still and didn’t move as the bed shifted. It was a little hard not to be devastated. 

But he knew, even though he’d saved Gerard’s life, it didn’t mean it was owed to him. He had to appreciate the time he had and maybe, just maybe, he could prove himself to be a better lover than any salesman or artist that Gerard might find on the street or in his store. Maybe Gerard would stay…maybe.


End file.
